Understanding
by AbstractError
Summary: Szayel Aporro Granz,' the Octava said, graciously brushing his pink tresses off his forehead. 'Here to shake, rock, adapt, and, more pointedly, electrify your world.'
1. Sand Castles

./waveth a tentacle

About time I updated this again, since most folks seems confused by the outwards summary and character listings. To make a long story short (pun unintended, this is a bloody long story), this is an AU piece, dealing with the resolution of the Hueco Mundo Arc, which starts from the point in which Szayel Aporro gets pinned by Mayuri Kurosutchi. It is unapologetically Espada-centric, and it will revolve around Szayel Aporro, Stark and Lilinette, and Grimmjow, to a lesser, yet undeniably louder extent.

As a worthy note, Chapters 5 and 6 contain little plot. They do however contain extremely harsh sexual activity, and **should** be skipped by those who are so inclined. They contain little to no plot, and stand in striking contrast to the rest of the story. However, without them, there would have been no Understanding. They have not been removed because this entire madness has started from them, on a loooooong flight from Melbourne.

I started this on the 4th of April 2008. In the meanwhile, canon has taken a lot of twists and turns, some for the better, some for the worse. Some canon twists have made me regret choices that I made with my own story, most of them have not. Thus - be aware that I stray quite far when it suits me. Lots of hits and lots of kind encouragement later, it is now the 13th of August 2009.

Thank you all for sticking with me :)

Chapter 1 - Where Szayel Aporro regrets his top notch laboratory.

Nemu adjusted the intravenous needle to a more painful position, then backed up a few inches, quietly waiting for her reward; it did not tarry.

The Arrancar's honey colored eyes became blurred, pain spreading though them as a droplet of blood in a glass of clear water. Long seconds passed before he attempted to shift his arm, achieving half an inch before the surge of strength failed, and the half dead weight slipped even further out than originally. Carried by the tiny momentum of the wrist and fingers, the arm slid off the edge of the table, balancing on the elbow.

The white skin, blackened by countless needle tracks, stretched; the steel tip of the too thick needle remained under the surface for a few seconds longer, before rippling free of the vein along all of its length. The first time this had happened, blood had flown liberally – this time, there had barely been a few droplets. And that, Nemu had impassively realized, was not the only change.

This time, the Arrancar had kept his eyes open.

'Fascinating,' Kurotsuchi Mayuri observed, over her shoulder. 'He's learning.'

The Shinigami captain approached the iron stretcher – which, to Kurotsuchi's trained eye, looked very much like an exceedingly ergonomic dissection table – and pulled his prisoner's arm up for closer scrutiny. 'Find another vein,' he ordered, before turning away.

With a barely audible buzz, the laboratory door had slipped out of his way, retreating inside the wall; a block of pale light had been cut into the darkness, and Mayuri's long shadow had stretched over the table behind him. 'If not this arm, then the other,' he distractedly advised, before the door had closed behind him. 'We should have a few more days before we need to pass to leg veins.'

Nodding with practiced obedience in spite of the fact that her captain was no longer there to see her, Nemu grasped the thin plastic tube which hung limply from the intravenous stand at her side feeling along the length to find the needle at its end. She considered it for a moment, torn between the training that prompted her to sterilize an instrument she had just picked off the floor, and the knowledge that in this case the precaution was unnecessary and perhaps even unwanted. After all, it was just his blood, the laboratory was thoroughly disinfected – and, in the end, if anything did occur, Kurotsuchi-sama would find it interesting to see how the specimen battled infection. After he found out how it battled everything else.

She felt along the man's arm, more out of habit than out of genuine need. He was dehydrated enough for the veins to stick up prominently, not blue, but deep black under the white skin. Nemu quickly identified one that was still reasonably intact, and placed the tip of the needle against it.

'…die.' The Arrancar whispered.

_Let me die._

He had been struggling with the phrase for the past two hours; the fact that he had been able to hold even such a simple thought, and complete the sentence, was proof that he had, indeed, been learning, and processing the drug at an accelerated pace. He'd have to receive another dose soon.

Nemu pulled the Arrancar's arm over the cold and cutting edge of the stretcher, casually making sure that the already torn and bruised elbow would be subjected to the maximum amount of pressure. With the arm in position, however, the tube did not reach all the way down to the intact spot she had found, and the needle scraped harshly against the already torn and unusable place of the previous puncture.

'No,' the Arrancar pleaded; not against the needle, for even in his current, less than half conscious state, he had understood that pleading against the needles was pointless. What he had hoped to prevent was the little instinctual tug that Nemu would give the tube in order to bring the catheter into position. That single, minute tug would cause the intravenous stand to shift closer to the left side of the stretcher, farther from the right – and simultaneously pull at all the other tubes and needles that were attached to his organs – liver, kidneys, lungs, urethra – tubes that carried fluids in rather than out of his body.

All of them appropriately labeled and color coded, hanging off the right side of his body, passing though a support ring in the IV stand, and carrying samples to the sterilized recipients hidden in the wall behind. He knew the system all too well.

He knew it because he had designed it for maximizing usable space and minimizing need of movement between the dissection table and the instrument and sample rack. It was his specimen collection system; his laboratory; his dissection table.

Though she had clearly heard the whispered word, Nemu had tugged at the tube. Not because she did not understand the collection system, but precisely because she did.

--

Not his mind. He had not lost control of his mind. What he had lost control of, however, were his perceptions.

That particular – and under other circumstances, self obvious realization – had slowly come to Szayel Aporro Grantz between the rhythmically surging and receding tides of pain. And, after had felt like millennia of reflection, he had narrowed the hypothesis down even further: the only perception that the Shinigami's drug had completely altered was the perception of time. None of his other senses seemed to be heightened in themselves; they had simply gained additional bandwidth, more bandwidth than they were supposed to have. In other words, he had not suddenly become more sensitive to pain. He simply had more time to actually _feel _it.

Too busy with simply registering all the inflow of information that the receptors conveyed, Szayel Aporro's mind had no leeway to process anything else, or even make sense of everything that he felt, saw and heard. Much like the indefinite mixture of nutrients he had been receiving through the intravenous needles, the inputs of his senses were amalgamated and amorphous, and had completely crushed him under their incessant assault.

Even the thought process that had led him to realize that he had crumbled to his own senses had been akin to constructing a sand castle within the reach of an ocean's waves. Whatever he thought of during the brief interludes of deep and dull rather than acute and agonizing pain was almost completely erased by the surging tide, the retreating waves often carrying away most of the logical edifices he managed to construct. Yet, certain logical deductions had left deep enough traces in the wet sands to be reconstructed anew. And they were, perhaps, the most important, such as the fact that his senses were waging war on each other for the use of his mind, and that the only way that he could offer himself some room for thought was dispensing with whichever of them he could. He could not stop feeling and he could not stop hearing, but he could, and did, close his eyes.

The discovery had been a massive breakthrough, as important to Szayel Aporro as the creation of his Fracctiones, even more so because the opposite implication of the concept was true. As long as he kept his eyes closed, his mind had enough room to process some amount of information; as long as he held them open, he heard, and especially _felt_ much less.

He was, however, at a loss for the next step in the deduction. The eternities spent trying to convince himself of the fact that he had not yet been defeated did not carry him though the other, much longer, ages of the Universe – centuries during which long iron needles tore veins open, millennia spent listening to the clear sound of his bodily fluids flowing though plastic tubes or feeling how his shoulder blades pushed irremediably closer to the surface of the skin, at the edges of the contact sores that had begun developing on his back.

In short, when neither Kurotsuchi Nemu nor her creator were by the side of the stretcher, adjusting drips and changing needles, Szayel Aporro vaguely remembered that he was still Octava Espada and that he was not dead. When either of them was by his side however, he simply wished he would die. For a while.

Up next - Stark saying something? And oddly, it's not snorring. Oh, my...


	2. Sloth

Chapter 2 - Where Stark is far more vocal than usual.

No, the pairing is not Stark/Lilinette. That would hardly be unexpected. Be patient.

* * *

'_Good morning, my dear Espada.'_

'_Good afternoon, my dear Espada.'_

'_Good evening, my dear Espada.'_

Finally forcing his eyes completely open, Stark yawned, concluding that it was not the time-of-day appropriate greeting that Aizen-sama always warmly extended when he entered the throne room that made him so irrepressibly bored, and thus, irrepressibly sleepy.

No, most certainly not.

It was the transparently false ending that the ex-Shinigami, future Master of the Universe, possible One True God, chose to attach to his greetings that acted as an infallible switch, promptly turning Stark's mind off, or at least sidetracking his thoughts to pleasant memories of stretching, sleeping, and switching positions while sleeping. Occasionally, memories of snoring while sleeping. As an afterthought, though, snoring was not always a pleasant memory; it all depended on the distance from Lilinette where it occurred, on the duration and pitch, and on whether Lilinette herself wanted to sleep at the time…

Pointless. Today, not even thinking intently of Lilinette could distract him from being miserable.

_My dear Espada…_Whether the words were a lie or a joke, they always removed Stark's interest for whatever Aizen would have to say next. And, in spite of the circumstances, this afternoon had been no exception.

He stood, shoving his hands in his pockets as he considered the long, oval table before him. Oval – an amusing choice of shape; neither rectangular to imply strict hierarchy, nor round to prompt undue illusions of equality. A pleasant compromise, as long as everyone remembered who sat at the head of the table; judging by the blank looks on their faces, Yammy, Barragan and Halibel clearly did.

Stark yawned again, then started on Halibel's trail, heading towards the arched doorway and feeling even more eager to leave the throne room than he usually was. According to habit, Aizen had issued his commands and left. The only concession he had made for the special circumstances was the fact that he had not asked for tea to be served. Though the creator was gone, his voice and reiatsu still hung in the air behind him, thick, sweet, unavoidable, resembling the smell of rotting flesh. It not entirely unfitting, Stark thought, adjusting his strides to remain just half a step behind Halibel, since the room was, in the end of all things, a place where walking cadavers gathered. Or maybe, just maybe, the stench had been coming from Arroniero's completely ignored corpse, which, Stark was assured, would not have been discussed even if it had been lying – or rolling, as it were - on the table before them.

'Time for a nap,' he said, as if the non-directional farewell could chase away the unpleasant thought he had just conjured.

'Three Gotei captains are in Hueco Mundo, and you decide to sleep, instead of preparing your spirit for battle. Your sloth disgusts me,' Barragan sniped, without warning. Not truly impressed by the elderly Arrancar's aggressive growl, Stark had concluded that perhaps his disinterest in the orders Aizen had just issued had been a tad too obvious.

'It disgusts me too,' he answered, clearly pointing that he was too lazy to even argue. 'I try to cope with the overwhelming self loathing by sleeping it off. Excuse me, Barragan.'

Stark had followed Halibel out into the corridor, passing by Yammy and idly noticing the giant's pained and rather dumb stare, which was directed at Ulquiorra's empty seat. _That_ had not been discussed either.

For a moment, he entertained the illusion of turning around, patting Yammy on the shoulder, and loudly telling him the Caja Negacion would not kill his friend. That Ulquiorra, at least, would be back. He wanted to voice the thought not because he suspected Yammy himself did not know it, but because he wondered how truth sounded in that accursed room, when spoken out loud. Maybe the entire chamber was conditioned so that the walls would absorb any honest pronouncement.

'Sloth,' he said, when the tall, arched doorway was far enough behind for him to imagine that he spoke to Halibel alone. 'An interesting choice of words.'

The woman glared at him over her shoulder.

'Barragan is right to be furious at you,' she said sternly. 'You did not listen to a single word that was said.'

'When it was first included in the fine list of the seven deadly sins,' Stark absentmindedly uttered, 'sloth was not used to denote laziness. Rather, it was the sin of sadness. Melancholy, depression, joylessness – the refusal to enjoy the goodness of God and the glory of his creation, or the failure of loving God…how was it? With all of one's heart, all of one's mind, all of one's soul.'

'I admit it is true; I did not listen as hard as you did.' he yielded, with an innocent shrug. 'You know how limited my span of attention is – I really, really wanted to pay attention to Aizen-sama. But, for however much I tried, I always started counting the empty seats around the table, and sort of dozed off with my eyes open. Same effect as counting sheep, really.'

She scoffed in clear disgust, and quickened her pace, hoping to leave him behind.

'You know what was even more annoying?' he added, in the same slow, dreamy voice, though he matched her pace, stride for furious stride. 'That every time that I managed to focus and restart the count, I had to start from scratch, and I always only made it to four. But,' Stark had continued, in a tone that was suddenly cutting and brutally awake, 'I am sure there were more. How many empty seats did you count, Halibel?'

'Are you trying to provoke me?' she snapped, turning around with lightning quick gestures.

'No, I am just trying to make sure you can still count down from ten to four.' He had responded, lazily. 'I see that you still can, so my work here is done.'

The blonde Arrancar had visibly swallowed her words. On other occasions, in the long forgotten time when he had actually been arrogant enough to believe there was something – something in his words or something in his touch – that could have awakened whatever trace of soul she still had, Stark might have felt frustrated. Perhaps, he had amusedly thought, measuring the body he had once found irresistible though half closed eyes, even angry. At present, he felt nothing of the sort.

Her attachment to Aizen went far beyond Ulquiorra's; it was adoration, worship – loyalty beyond reward and love beyond lust. She was not just drunk on her power. Halibel truly and genuinely loved, and because he understood her affection for Aizen was sincere, Stark could not force himself to grudge it. She simply bored him, as did all the rest.

'I am sure Aizen-sama did not simply call us to repeat his earlier orders. He meant for us to see the empty seats.' Halibel noted, as if she had not heard him. 'And rest assured, Stark, that he notices and grieves over them as well...'

'Oh?' he mused from behind. 'You think he noticed? Such little things as Arroniero and Di Roi being dead, Grimmjow rebelling and putting Ulquiorra in a Caja Negacion, and Szayel Aporro actually missing an opportunity of crawling at his feet? While lustfully ogling at Gin?' Stark giggled, after a moment of consideration.

'Aizen-sama knows everything', Halibel snapped, undeniable fury in her voice.

'Yes, well, it would be hard not to, Szayel Aporro is a bit obvious,' Stark shrugged. 'In his defense, though, I do not think it is homosexuality, but rather narcissism…'

'If today should have taught you anything, it should have taught you that there is no room for disobedience when the enemy is on our doorstep!' Halibel hissed, turning around with the speed of lightning. 'He ordered us to wait; thus, we will wait.'

'Hey, no arguments from me,' Stark replied, defensively raising his palms. 'I do very well at waiting. I don't even need to know what I am waiting for, but then, neither do you. Neither of us sees fit to ask, and Aizen-sama does not see fit to tell us.'

Halibel's blue eyes had narrowed, burrowing into his soul and past his entire pretense.

'You are angry,' she stated; the discovery appeared to deeply please her, for her eyebrows furrowed as if, under the high collar of her dress, she'd been smirking with malicious amusement.

'Angry?' the man chuckled. 'Me? Nah.' He stretched his arms over his head and yawned, then walked past her to lean against the side wall, finding that even standing was too tiresome. He measured her for a long time, before speaking the unthinkable. 'I am just sinning in sloth.'

She'd vanished from his sight as soon as the words had been spoken, and Stark had imagined that before Halibel had stopped running, the Sonido had taken her to the other side of Las Noches, and right in front of Aizen's door.

'Yet, dear Halibel,' he had continued, as if she had still been listening, 'there is no need for you to run and tell God that I fail to revel in the beauty of his creation. He won't reward you by increasing your standing, just because you were kind enough to tell him. He already knows it. And you'd be surprised to know he doesn't really give a rat's ass.'

Just as he finished the phrase, he felt a sharp jab to his liver, so powerful that it almost knocked his back flat against the wall.

'Oi, ya know, she left,' Lilinette chimed, appearing by his side just as suddenly as Halibel had vanished. 'Quit talking to yourself like a retard.'

'I noticed, genius,' Stark sighed, raising an eyebrow and looking down at the little girl without spite. 'Don't think she appreciates my humor.'

'You don't have any,' the fracction answered, with a mischievous shrug.

'Oh, yeah?' he perked, in genuine rebellion. 'I think I do. In fact, let me tell you a good joke that I heard just the other day. It was Aizen-sama himself who told it.'

Though his voice was still cheerful, Stark's blue eyes lost all traces of warmth.

'_As long as you stand with me you are invincible._' he uttered, slowly and carefully articulating each word. 'Now, that's a good one. A bit subtle, but I think Gin got it, 'cuz he was grinning from ear to ear. I don't think Tousen did get it, though. Do you think he's deaf as well as blind?'

He clenched his jaws, grabbing the girl's shoulder as if he had needed to lean on her to keep his balance. In response, she looked up at him with an expression that made her pretty features look insufferably serious.

'You are not laughing, Lilinette,' Stark whispered. 'Neither was I.'

Up next - Pain and 'urt. Szayel says it's really, really unfair.


	3. Surrender

Chapter 3 - Where Ishida ponders whether he hates Szayel more than he hates Mayuri. Not that it helps Szayel too much.

Warnings for language, sexually explicit hints, and pointless Szayel pain in general.

* * *

'Please.'

He had uttered the word for the first time a few hours after they had claimed his laboratory as their own. Until then, he'd just stood like an odd, bleeding statue, the broken blade of Kurotsuchi-sama's zanpakutoh aligning his defensively raised palm to his chest. He had finally collapsed when his Resurrection had completely faded, yet, by then, other things had become far more important than delivering the finishing blow to the Octava Espada.

Perhaps he had been interesting enough to earn a second glance from Mayuri-sama, or perhaps he had not been good enough to earn the quick death he clearly longed for.

'Please…'

'_Let me die, please'? _Possible, Nemu thought. The utterance could have been the beginning of a plea or the ending of one – the Arrancar had whispered many disjointed words during the two days since his capture, and Nemu had not really paid attention, for, in the end, all of them ended up whimpering pretty much the same things. This one had simply skipped to the begging earlier than most – not unjustifiably so, perhaps. Judging by the equipment in this laboratory, he should have had a very detailed understanding of what to expect.

Nemu had tugged at the IV tube, making the stand that stood the head of the table jerk towards the left, and causing all the tubes on the opposite side of the table to tauten. The one in the Arrancar's stomach had been pulled clear, a few droplets of gastric acid dripping onto the floor before superficial pressure capped the flow.

She looked down at the Arrancar, with a sweet, dreamy and resigned expression on her features, which made it hard to distinguish just how much she was looking forward to reinserting the probe.

The Hollow had drained her life-force to reconstruct his own.

He had crushed her organs and torn her body asunder.

He had not even bothered to see if she had truly died, leaving her to linger.

And now, he was paying. In blood, sweat, bile and tears, if he had any, the weight of her own suffering draining slowly away from his body, and giving Mayuri-sama everything he needed to know about how the Arrancars' bodies functioned, an unmistakable advantage for the Sereitei in the battle that was soon to follow.

His words meant nothing to her.

Szayel Aporro lay terribly still, looking up at her with foggy and unfocused anguish. Without returning the glance, Nemu inserted the needle into his arm and adjusted the drip to fast, briefly wondering if his dried-up veins had enough elasticity to take the rapid flow of liquid. Not that it mattered, she thought. If this vein burst, she could always find another.

'Are you feeding him anything?'

Nemu had spun on herself, her eyes warming at the sight of Ishida Uryu; he'd come in very quietly and was now standing a few feet away from the stretcher, looking as if he had not had the willpower to come closer. She had been happy to see the Quincy, but judging by the young man's harsh expression, the feeling had not been reciprocated in the least – her smile fading as quickly as it had appeared, Nemu had looked away.

'It is unnecessary, Ishida-san' she answered, softly. 'Like any of the simpler Hollows, he feeds on reiatsu, and so far, what he is breathing is just enough to keep him alive without restoring his strength. As long as we provide sufficient fluid for his human body to subsist, he will not die.'

'In other words, Kurotsuchi is not only draining him, but also starving him.' the Quincy muttered, forcing himself a step closer. He bit his lower lip, with a thoroughly bitter frown. 'How can you watch this, Nemu-chan?' he asked in disappointment, and, in the back of her mind, Nemu had not needed long to understand what the Quincy was thinking of. His grandfather must have died slowly, in a similar way. Perhaps even on a similar table. Knowing that there was little she could have done to dispel the memory of Ishida's first encounter with her master and creator, Nemu had not even tried.

'If Mayuri-sama had not arrived when he did, this would probably have been your fate, Ishida-san.' She said, softly. 'There is nothing that we are doing to him that he would not have done to any of us.'

'Do you find the notion comforting, I wonder?' Ishida whispered in response, awkwardly adjusting his glasses to hide the tremor in his hands. The Quincy had looked down at the stretcher – though after his own fight against the Espada, he understood how superior knowledge of one's enemies could turn the tide of battle, Ishida still found comfort in the fact that he was physically incapable of hating the Arrancar to the extent where seeing him tortured would please him. Two sides of the same coin, the young man had thought, with sudden, irrepressible fury – Shinigami and Hollow were the same thing, both ghosts driven by hate and neither more human or more merciful than the other.

He'd looked down at the Arrancar; much to his surprise, he thought he had seen Szayel Aporro moving his chin ever so slightly, willfully causing the mild fluorescent lighting from above to reflect in his glasses and hide his eyes.

'Is he still poisoned?' Ishida inquired, in sudden alarm.

'He should be,' Nemu responded frowning. 'He has received ten thousand times the dosage required for his weight and height. With his dwindling reiatsu, I would be surprised if he had processed even a fraction of it. Do not be concerned, though – he is aware, so he moves sometimes.'

'Ah, so he can hear us?' the Quincy asked, taking a careful, instinctive step back. 'And he can feel…' Ishida gasped, in sudden understanding, 'all this?'

'Would you have expected us to give him an anesthetic?' Nemu shrugged impassively. In spite of the fact that her voice had sounded as benevolent and mild as usual, Ishida had sensed the slight bristle of her energy.

'No,' the human responded. 'But I would not have expected you to keep giving him something that makes him experience more pain than he needs to…'

'The amount of pain he _needs _to experience is debatable, and dependant on your perspective, Ishida-san,' the girl said, turning away, and finding something else to do – pointless moving of instruments from one drawer to the other. She was unwilling to re-insert the stomach probe while the Quincy was in the room, and she did not want argue with him; for whatever reason, the memory of the fact that he had spared Mayuri-sama had not faded at all, and she still felt as if she had owed the young man her very own life. A simple testimony of how well she had been conditioned, but nonetheless, a palpable reality. Just as real as the unverified, yet solidly rooted notion that he was a human, and a Quincy, so, in the end, as much a sworn enemy as the Arrancar.

She did not truly believe that – her brain did not, and neither did her heart. She simply accepted it, however; she knew it as one knew one's name, as if the phrase had been physically written in her thoughts.

'Did you come to fight Mayuri-sama?' Nemu asked, in a soft, faded voice. 'It is neither the time, nor the place for retribution…'

Ishida's eyes narrowed.

'I understand that,' he reluctantly said. 'I am simply here because I wanted to know if he had any news of the others…Kurosaki Ichigo seems to be in some sort of trouble…'

'He will have help, if he has not had it already' Nemu responded, with a tiny smile, which made her look almost unbearably young and beautiful. 'Do not worry, Uryu,' she added, addressing him in familiar terms for the first time, and suddenly making his heart beat faster. 'You will soon be reunited with your friends.'

Finding the contrast between the woman's demeanor and the actions she performed on behalf of her master too hard to bear, Ishida drew a deep breath and bit his lower lip in disgust.

'I hope you do understand how useful the information we are now gathering will be to the Sereitei…as well as the real world, of course.' Nemu added, sensing the young man's anger.

'Oh, I do,' Ishida sighed in his turn. He decided to give up on pressing the point, but took advantage of the fact that Nemu was not watching to gently grasp Szayel's arm, with the intention of laying it on the stretcher, alongside the body – not because he had felt any particular compassion towards his defeated enemy, but because the sight of it balancing on the edge of breaking made his stomach turn inside out.

The simple touch was enough; Ishida's fingers became glued to the Arrancar's skin, as one's fingers suddenly stuck to a frozen metal bar in the height of winter. Faint, blue light gathered around the Quincy's fingers, slowly creeping up the Arrancar's arm. Pale skin turned rosy, black veins turned blue and receded under the skin, as Szayel Aporro's chin moved to the side once more, this time, not to prevent Ishida from looking into the honey colored depths of the Espada's eyes, but rather to ensure that he did. Szayel breathed deeply, as if that breath had been his first, and licked his lips as if he had actually been able to taste the Quincy's reiatsu.

'You…hate him…more than you hate…me…Quincy…How…interesting…'

The Arrancar's lips had moved without making sound; for a second, Ishida was torn between the desire of calling for help, and the inherent truth in the Octava's eyes.

'Nemu-chan,' Ishida called, pulling himself out of the brief fit of insanity, and furiously stretching his fingers to let go of the Espada's wrist; the Arrancar's arm remained magically attached to the palm of his hand. Szayel Aporro's breath turned quick and shallow, his pale features twisted in pain, or satisfaction, or despair – Ishida could not truly tell, and he did not much care. He felt his reiatsu draining away painfully, as if it had been cutting shards of glass slipping through his veins, and heard Nemu gasp in terror behind him. Imagining the young woman was frightened of what was happening to him, Ishida looked over his shoulder, suddenly feeling more eager to reassure her than to get rid of the leech on his hand.

Yet, Ishida understood, as the scabbard of Kurotsuchi Mayuri's zanpakutoh fell sharply across his wrist, shaking off the Espada's frantic grasp, his predicament was the last thing Nemu had worried about.

'Leave addled children alone for five minutes, and instead of eating the candy, they will let the candy eat them.' Mayuri commented, mostly to himself. To Ishida's surprise and annoyance, the Shinigami sounded unduly amused. 'When he said he analyzed all of your reiatsu, little Quincy, did you not suspect he'd find some other use for it than mocking you? You underestimate the power of science,' Kurotsuchi cackled. 'Help me here,' he added, towards the stretcher. 'The entire community's reputation is being smeared.'

Still drawing sharp, irregular breaths through his slightly parted lips, Szayel closed his eyes and remained silent.

'Are you completely deprived of professional solidarity?' Mayuri inquired, in clear disappointment. 'Or are you finding the human reiatsu is, shall we say, slightly indigestible?'

It must have been so, Ishida thought. Though the skin on the Arrancar's arm looked slightly less pale, a thin mist of cold sweat had covered his entire body, and the Espada had begun to shiver as if he had been having a fit of fever.

'He does not appreciate you as only I could,' Kurotsuchi whispered, so close to Ishida's ear that the Quincy felt his breath in his hair, and became aware of the fact that it carried no scent or heat whatsoever. He had always imagined Kurotsuchi Mayuri's breath smelled like decay, betraying the poisonous blood that coursed between his false organs, but the contradiction of his original supposition did not make Ishida feel any less disgust.

The Quincy backed away, leaving Kurotsuchi bent over his specimen. The young man shot a questioning glance at Nemu, but the girl gave him no attention. Instead, she stared at her captain as if she had expected him to explode, clear and sudden terror marring her pretty features as Mayuri bent over to pick up the probe her earlier clumsy movements had removed from Szayel's stomach.

'Too bad, it would have been interesting to see if the balance of the pH in his digestive fluid changed after this,' Kurotsuchi had sighed, in obvious regret. 'Oh well.'

In a desperate rush, Nemu had darted to her creator's side, taking the catheter from his hand and quickly bending over the stretcher.

'There truly is no need to put that back _now_, Nemu,' the Shinigami captain scolded, strolling over to the wall behind the dissection table to thoughtfully glance at one of the clear glass containers within. 'We will see if anything happens with solid food. He will get desperate enough to want it, later,' he said, pronouncing the word louder than the rest, and watching to see if Szayel squirmed. The Arrancar did not move, save for a barely perceptible tension in the muscles of his lower jaw.

Ishida clenched his fists, the words lodged in his throat.

'I hope you are satisfied with yourself, Quincy,' Mayuri distractedly said. 'You have yet again placed Nemu-chan in a world of trouble. I also hope that you will not delay our work further by lingering around and distracting her from her tasks…'

'I don't think whatever you are doing here can be called 'work',' Ishida hissed.

'That just goes to show how limited your understanding is,' Kurotsuchi flatly stated. 'However,' he added, his golden eyes sparkling in devilish amusement through the orifices of his gaudy mask, 'I will admit that I make it a point to mix business with pleasure whenever possible.'

'You bore me, Ishida Uryu,' he concluded. 'Unless you'd like to donate _something _to science, I advise you leave. You've already blundered more than your share, and I am sure the Gotei 13, who are on their way to extract you and your other idiotic friends from the massive pile of shit where you've submerged yourselves, would be pleased to hear you helped an Espada recover.' The Shinigami's eyes turned to cold metal. 'After Inoue Orihime, the line between stupidity and treason has been blurred significantly.'

'The Gotei 13 actually think that what you do may be referred to as research,' Ishida grunted, without even flinching at the threat. 'Their opinion means little to me.'

'Remove yourself,' Kurotsuchi growled; Nemu's hands trembled, and she whimpered audibly. She looked at Ishida, her dark eyes filled with silent, desperate pleas; shaking his head in utter dismay, Ishida had stalked out of the Espada's laboratory. As the door slid close behind him, he had time to catch a glimpse of Kurotsuchi Mayuri slapping his daughter across the face with the back of his hand, causing her to lose her footing and stumble against the wall – the Quincy had spun on his heels, only to see Nemu raise her arms to defend against another blow. Before the door completely had closed and the locks had fallen heavily in place, Ishida had even managed to catch a glimpse of Kurotsuchi's eyes. The man was not even angry.

Still, he slapped Nemu again – just as a point.

'You stupid, stupid girl,' the Shinigami captain scolded, with the kind tone of a parent berating one's child over a broken glass. 'Why did you allow that? What if he had recovered? What if he had fully recovered?' he amusedly corrected himself, looking away from Nemu and completely blocking her trembling, whispered excuses from his mind. He softly tilted his head to the side, glancing at the Arrancar.

Szayel Aporro still lay helplessly on the stretcher; to an untrained observer, his state would have seemed unchanged, if not worse, after he'd so thoughtlessly ingested a reiatsu completely alien to his nature. Yet, if there was something that Mayuri Kurotsuchi was not, it was untrained, and he knew better. Much better.

The Espada was awake and alert; whatever damage the Quincy's reiatsu had done to his body, it had at least, to an extent, cleared his mind. His honey colored eyes were no longer unfocused, and though terror still reigned in their depth, it was no longer quite the same hazy expression of the feeling that the Arrancar had had when Mayuri had last seen him. On the contrary. Now, the Octava knew exactly what he was terrified of, which, Kurotsuchi had to admit, was by far more rewarding than watching Szayel Aporro endlessly stumble though the dark recesses of his own mind.

'Are you aware of yourself, Perfect Being?' Mayuri mockingly shot, playfully tugging at the catheter that came out of Szayel's chest.

'Damn you,' the Espada promptly articulated in response, gagging as the hidden part of the probe scratched disgustingly against the inside of his bronchi for what felt like endless miles. The words forced air furiously out, wheezing past the compressed plastic tube.

'Welcome back, then,' the Shinigami said. 'I trust you appreciate the fact that I am making appropriate use of your well fitted facilities here. I am grateful to you, in truth,' Kurotsuchi continued. 'But for your little playground here, Aizen's planned sealing of the Garganta would have left me with no means of immediately analyzing your wonderful makeshift body. This will no longer be needed,' he concluded dryly, yanking the tube out of the Espada's chest.

The Arrancar chocked and coughed, a small quantity of crimson fluid oozing out of the tiny opening.

'Of course,' Mayuri continued, removing the probe that was lodged in the Espada's gallbladder with a similarly violent gesture, 'I cannot predict how grateful Aizen will be when he will learn how useful your stupidity in allowing yourself to be captured alive will be in advancing my knowledge of his creations. You, Octava Espada, have given me more than I had hoped, and taught me a lot about how you and your ilk live.'

'Or, if you please, of how you and your ilk can die.' The Shinigami snickered.

'You will never defeat all of us,' Szayel Aporro hissed, the obvious fear in his eyes in stark and painful contrast to the assurance in his voice. 'Aizen-sama…'

'Aizen-sama has completely left you behind. The best you can hope for is that he ignores your continued existence. At worse, well, I would guess he would be mildly angered. However, he will soon travel to Karakura town to find a little surprise waiting for him.' Kurotsuchi observed, his voice slightly impatient, like the voice of a professor explaining a particularly simple concept to a dull-witted student. 'He may survive the surprise, and return to find you here, alive. If you do not behave, that is. If you do,' the Shinigami followed, 'I may be convinced to kill you after I am satisfied you have taught me all you can.'

Szayel attempted to move, yet, despite the fact that his mind was no longer completely trapped within itself, the Quincy's reiatsu had not been sufficient – or of sufficient quality – to restore even a fraction of his body's strength. He had barely lifted himself a few inches before a mocking prod of the Shinigami's gloved index made him fall back to the cold iron. He whimpered, his muscles tensing pitifully under the bruised, pale skin, and looked away from his captor. Knowing, knowing all too well that Kurotsuchi was right, and that Aizen would not forgive his trespass.

'You amuse me, Espada,' Mayuri uttered, each word dripping poison. 'Perhaps you will live regardless. Nemu-chan.'

'Yes, Mayuri-sama,' the girl gingerly responded, making haste to undo her creator's displeasure with her earlier actions.

'Remove all the catheters,' the Shinigami captain said. 'We have everything we need until his state changes materially.'

Tapping the long fingernail of his middle left finger on the side of his mask, with small metallic clinks that assaulted the Espada's hearing, Mayuri allowed his attention to drift towards the glass containers in the wall. In her turn, Nemu bent over the stretcher, rapidly and deftly collecting all the probes and needles without paying any attention to the pained little moans that escaped the Arrancar's lips.

'Enough of everything,' Mayuri whispered, mostly to himself. 'What do you think Szayel Aporro Granz?' he asked, theatrically turning to the Octava, and allowing the pink-haired young man a first glance at the specimen rack. 'Be generous, help a fellow scientist out.'

'Go die,' the Espada whispered.

He tried to look away but could not, finding the spectacle of the clear, almost full recipients enthralling and paralyzingly frightful at the same time.

_That is me_, Szayel Aporro thought, dully, painstakingly lifting himself on his elbow. _All of me._

_Labeled. Categorized. Neat. Precise. Me._

'Lymphatic system,' Kurosutchi explained, appearing pleased at the attention and pointing at the smallest of the vials. 'Spinal fluid,' he continued, pointing to another, 'surprisingly blurry. If you were fully human, I would warn you that you were coming down with some affliction…'

'Your drug,' Szayel protested faintly.

'You know,' Mayuri answered, with an honest congratulatory nod, 'that is a very perceptive observation.'

'Respiratory system,' the masked Shinigami followed, strolling leisurely along the wall. 'Digestive system, arterial blood, vein blood. Everything.'

'Oh, I forget. Excretion is in here somewhere as well,' he added with cruel amusement, as Nemu violently pulled out the last of the catheters, which was lodged up Szayel Aporro's urethra. This time, the man had cried out and coiled defensively.

'Excuse me,' Nemu said, out of habit, her words deprived of any genuine regret or kindness. Torn, and bleeding slowly from a score of neat, perfectly rounded puncture marks, Szayel had smirked to himself, wondering if he'd just been mocked.

'Everything,' Kurotsuchi had reiterated, 'but not quite.'

Something dark, the shadow of a giant hell moth had passed over Nemu's placid features, causing the Espada to stir with strength spurred by deep, unspeakable terror. The kind that only Aizen-sama was able to cause, and that made one feel as if their bone marrow had been submerged in liquid nitrogen.

'I still know close to nothing about your reproduction system,' Mayuri said. 'Can you actually perpetuate your species, Arrancar? Or do your kind only spring out of Aizen's reiatsu and sick imagination?'

Szayel's lower jaw drooped briefly in surprise as well as foolish curiosity, before he caught himself and stubbornly clenched his mouth closed. He didn't know, the Octava suddenly realized. He genuinely _did not know_. On the one hand, the notion did seem preposterous, given the fact that Arrancar bodies were just spirit matter that happened to have arranged itself in human form. In perfect human form which was completely able to imitate all functions of a normal human body, if it needed to…so, on the other hand…He frowned, the spite at the fact that he had not asked himself the question previously dissipating only when Kurotsuchi's shadow ominously stretched above him.

'Aside all things, this is of most immediate concern to me, as well as the Gotei 13, so I hope you will help me shed some light on the matter. If your type of Hollow can solely be created by Aizen's influence on the Hongyaku, then some of you may be spared and left to linger in your arid little hell here…Some of the Gotei captains are not entirely partial to executing prisoners – wickedly short sighted, but, alas…' The Shinigami explained, leaning over Szayel's suddenly frailer and shivering frame. 'But, if you are as anatomically perfect as you seem to be thus far, we must take great care not to leave any of yours alive. For safety. You'll understand, of course.'

'How…' the Arrancar asked, trying to push himself farther from Kurotsuchi's mask. 'How do you hope to…'

'Two possible methods,' the Shinigami answered, raising two fingers to illustrate the point. Like a shy shadow slinking away from the sun, Nemu withdrew behind her master. 'Firstly, there is dissection. Well, vivisection to be precise, since you are alive, in whatever random definition of the term applies. But you are such a beautiful, graceful subject,' he continued, in a doubt-filled voice. 'I would hate to have to stitch you back together. I so appreciate, I don't know…wholesomeness about a specimen.'

'Shit,' the Espada chocked. 'Shit.'

He attempted to pull away from the bulky rounded frame, but slipped ridiculously on his own blood. No more than another prod of Kurotsuchi Mayuri's index was necessary to sprawl him on his back, the world spinning viciously above, around and inside him. He closed his eyes, trying to still his rampant senses for long enough to make sense of what was going on outside the mental walls of his cage, and sifting through the myriad streams of reiatsu in a vain attempt of at least locating the single one that truly mattered. But Aizen did not seem to be there, he did not seem to be in Las Noches, nor in Hueco Mundo, nor…nor, Szayel understood, was Aizen-sama more interested in the Octava's fate than he had been in Arroniero's fate. Dead or dying – in any event, defeated – they meant nothing to him, while he still meant everything to them.

His glance slipped to the side, away from the Shinigami.

Helpless.

_Aizen-sama…_

Frightened.

_Whatever power I had, you took advantage of, always making me feel as if I had stolen it from you…_

Weak.

_Were my selfish thoughts enough to undo my loyal actions?_

Alone.

The Shinigami's hand trailed down Szayel Aporro's chest with mock kindness, amplified a thousand times by the remnants of the drug. As was the pain, when Kurotsuchi Mayuri's long middle fingernail prodded slowly into the perfect, round trail of the catheter which led to the Octava's liver. Szayel coiled and writhed, willing himself silent and feeling like an insect clumsily pinned to the page of a schoolboy's diary.

'The second method?' the Arrancar asked, or rather mouthed, finding that he barely had enough strength left to move his lips.

'You could volunteer a sample,' Mayuri purred, twisting the fingernail and watching the Espada squirm with an impassible glance. 'Your choice entirely' he ended; in a corner of his tortured brain, Szayel Aporro could have sworn he'd actually seen the Shinigami's eyebrow arching impatiently under the mask, at the same time as Kurotsuchi had drawn his zanpakutoh. 'I', the masked man had uttered, slowly sliding the blade down the Arrancar's bare chest, 'have already…'

The blade pressed gently on top of Szayel's flaccid sex.

'…expressed…'

The knife flipped the pale, limp piece of flesh upwards on the equally pale stomach.

'…my preference,' Mayuri had ended, as his sword ended its journey to finally settle under the Espada's scrotum. 'I guess the simplified version of the question is – do you want to volunteer and perhaps earn your death, or shall we continue as before? It is entirely up to you,' Kurotsuchi's head twisted to the side, to an anatomically impossible angle. 'Que me dices, Octava Espada?'

Honey colored eyes rolled towards the ceiling, then long, dark eyelids fluttered shut, and Kurosutchi Mayuri's drug was not the only reason why Szayel Aporro Granz took what felt like millennia to nod in submission.

Up next - Stark has no faith in Aizen. Would you trust someone who always wakes you up? Well, would you?


	4. Bad Language

Chapter 4 - Where Stark begins to understand.

Warnings for language.

* * *

'So you're not gonna go?'

Lilinette blinked in surprise, preparing to pounce on Stark as the Espada let himself fall heavily atop his pillow mound. He sighed with pleasure, and covered his eyes with his forearm.

'Nah.' He sleepily said. 'I am going to go, just not now. Going wait until things, you know, quiet down a bit.'

He instinctively tensed the muscles of his stomach – just in time. Lilinette landed atop his chest with all of her tiny weight, her feet stabbing rather than crushing.

'Are you bonkers?' the girl shrilled, starting to jump up and down, and clearly hitting one target after the other – testicles, liver, stomach, kidneys, when he attempted to roll on the side. 'You pissed Halibel off, now you wanna piss off Gin as well? Is anything even more wrong in your head than usual?'

'Later,' Stark yelped. 'I am going to go, just…later. I'll sleep a bit now, if you let me…Lilinette, no, it hurts, Lilinette!'

'You are gonna get yourself put in a Caja Negacion,' the fraction continued, kicking him squarely in the jaw and making his eyes water in pain. 'The kind that you cannot get out of. Cretin!'

'Oh, that's a new one,' he observed, in faint voice. 'Did Grimmjow teach you that one?'

'Fucking cretin! And it was Nnoitra.' she corrected, seriously, kicking him again, this time in the sternum. The Fracction stopped hitting him as abruptly as she had started, but she remained standing upright on his chest. 'What is wrong with you, Stark?' Lilinette asked kindly. 'What is happening?'

'I'm a cretin,' he joked, faintly. The explanation did not seem sufficient; the girl continued to stare questioningly down at him, until he sighed and relented. He sat up slowly, allowing Lilinette's legs to slip on either side of his chest, until she came to straddle him. He lazily extended an arm around her shoulders, then attempted a smile. 'Did you catch where I was dispatched? To gloriously kidnap a girl not much older than yourself – for the third time, I might add?'

'Yeah,' Lilinette answered, frowning a little. 'So?'

'Focus on the location,' he continued kindly. 'Tell me what you feel,' Stark whispered, gently clearing a straight blonde strand of hair from the child's forehead. Lilinette muttered another insult, but closed her eyes, and soon, the warm hum of her reiatsu filled the room. 'Aaroniero is dead,' Stark added, in the same hushed tone, pointlessly tucking the girl's hair behind her ear – the fine, almost white strand immediately escaped again, and Lilinette smiled with her eyes closed as the hair tickled her cheek.

'I know,' she whispered.

'LeRouxis dead, at the same spot. Do you think he got there by accident?' he continued, and the girl gasped for air, her lower lip trembling as if she had been about to cry. 'Szayel Aporro has vanished. Ulquiorra has vanished.'

'But they are not dead,' the fraction refuted, furiously shaking her head.

'Not yet, Lilinette. But Szayel Aporro's reiatsu is slowly fading. It's also well hidden. If he is not dead, he is dying, and I think, in a lot of pain.'

'But you're gonna stay here and do nothing, because he told ya to,' Lilinette smirked, this time opening her eyes, and allowing her energy to settle. 'Just like ya did with Aaroniero. You're gonna listen to that order, but not the other?'

'The fact that I hate Szayel Aporro's guts helps my selective hearing.' Stark shrugged. 'Focus, Lilinette,' he said, again, and though his voice was kind, the sentence had the strength of an order. 'Focus on the place where Ichimaru Gin sent me, to retrieve Inoue Orihime. Tell me what you feel,' Stark whispered. The girl obeyed without protest.

'Nnoitra…'Lilinette breathed, 'Nnoitra-sama is fighting… Grimmjow…'

Her little hand clasped the chest of his tunic. 'Grimmjow,' she whimpered, 'he is so hurt…and the reiatsu,' she gasped, 'the massive reiatsu! A captain class, something monstrous! I have never felt…Not even you, not even Aizen-sama…'

'He is not even using his shikai,' Stark answered. 'Not even his shikai,' the man laughed to himself. 'And he made Nnoitra release Santa Teresa.' He swallowed dry, slipping his palm down, from the girl's ear to her cheek, and lifting her chin with his thumb. 'Do you still think it is a good idea for me to go out there right now, Lilinette? Don't cry, come on. Grimmjow has been in that state for a while now. I think they will let him live. Don't cry. You're going to get snot all over my fresh clothes.'

'They're three days old,' the girl sniffled, wiping the tears that had started to flow down her cheek with the back of her glove.

'Fresh!' he declared, haughtily. 'And not yet impregnated with my manly smell!'

'Your manly stench of death, you mean,' Lilinette had giggled, but her amusement had not lasted long. A fresh attack of the remote reiatsu had made her cringe; she wrapped her body around his, tightly, arms and legs clenched around his torso and face buried to his chest. 'No,' she whispered, trembling, 'it's not a good idea to leave now. You ought to take a nap.'

'That's what I think as well,' Stark muttered. 'I am glad great minds think alike.'

'But,' the fraction questioned, 'what will Gin say? He said it was direct order from Aizen-sama…Aizen-sama sent you out, and…' The girl suddenly pushed away from him, her round eye even rounder in fright. '…and you think his intention was that you to fight the creature with the great big reiatsu!'

'A sign of trust, you say!' the man exclaimed merrily, although his eyes flickered with anger. 'Why, I thank you, Aizen-sama! Your confidence gives me strength! Send me to suceed where Ulquiorra failed – and Ulquiorra is taking a strangely long time to come out of the Sexta's Caja Negacion. Could it be that he doesn't want to come out?'

'Is it a coincidence that this happened right after I spoke to Halibel?' Stark chuckled. 'Why did he not send the Primera, if he thought retrieving Inoue Orihime is that crucially important? Hey, you're crushing my ribs here, Lilinette,' he protested, as the girl's thighs squeezed tight enough to cut his breath.

'Don't talk like that,' she breathed.

'What? You want me to say you're fucking crushing my ribs? Or some other brutally boring interjection that Grimmjow might think up?' he artificially joked.

'You said they were invectives last time,' the fraction whined.

'They can be both,' he answered, letting his hand pointlessly sift through her hair. 'You have to keep smart.' Stark gently uttered. 'You have to keep smart for the both of us. Since I'm a cretin and all.'

'You know what kind of talk I mean,' she scolded, looking at him and frowning. 'Don't act like a retard if you're not one.'

'I know what kind of talk you mean.' Stark responded. 'And you're right, I should not talk like that.'

'What are we gonna do?' Lilinette asked, leaning her hot cheek against the cold skin of his neck. 'We can't not obey Aizen-sama.'

'I will obey him,' Stark answered. 'But after a bit. Let's give them some time. Who knows,' he chuckled. 'maybe Nnoitra will make himself useful and actually damage the captain class thing enough for it to stop being deadly to me.'

'Nnoitra cannot defeat it; neither could you, but you'd survive him.' Lilinette matter-of-factly stated, her voice suddenly filled with chilling satisfaction. 'He will die.'

'Yeah,' Stark said. 'And until that happens, you and I, Lilinette, are going to stay put, right here, just like this. And we're going to wait for the nice folks to kill each other. Exactly like Aizen-sama ordered. Yesterday, or the day before that – I cannot remember exactly when. At some point he did, though, and since he did order it, we're going to listen.'

The fraction sighed, but did not argue further. In silence, her little body close to the Espada's, she waited and followed the overwhelming deployment of reiatsu from the distance with her eyes half closed. Had she not shivered a little every time that the captain class Shinigami's energy exploded, Stark would have thought she was asleep. As he wished she had been.

'You don't have to watch if you don't want to,' Stark had said, at length. Lilinette shook her head.

'Nah,' she responded. 'We're gonna fight them sooner or later. Better if I know what's up.' Then, she suddenly perked. 'Stark!' she screamed, right in his ear, making him grumble in pain.

'You fancy yourself a banshee now? What the hell?' the Espada snapped, putting his finger in his ear, as if trying to ascertain his eardrum was still in place. Fully prepared to give her a serious scolding, he'd looked down, only to meet a look that filled him with dread and made him instantly forget about the piercing sound that was still needling at his brain. 'What?'

'Did you feel that?' she asked, in a low, barely audible whisper, suddenly straightening. 'That reiatsu…It's…it's…'

Stark frowned, and concentrated, trying to hear what she had, and, under, rather than over the noise of the battle, under the wild howl of the Shinigami's reiatsu, he heard what Lilinette had heard. No more than a whisper, a trickle…but there, unquestionably there.

_Neliel._

'What the hell?' he asked again, in complete confusion. 'They didn't kill her? Give me a moment, I need to see this properly.'

He closed his eyes, and, as he did, Lilinette whimpered. His energy was cold, always so cold and so cutting, moving through her and around her like a block of heavy, viscous liquid suddenly bursting out of the hole in his chest, then, as quickly and unpleasantly draining back in.

'It's her. It's Neliel,' he confirmed, though he did not look less confused when his eyes reopened. 'In a different shape, but definitely her.' Stark bit his lip looking down at Lilinette, in silent questioning. 'Well,' he muttered, 'this certainly changes…things…'

'We need to go get her!' Lilinette shrieked, darting up. 'We need to go get her _now_! And we need to help Nnoitra, and Szayel Aporro…Fucker, and I thought...' Without waiting for his confirmation or approval, she started her Sonido steps and vanished out the door.

'Why does she goddamn have to be so fast!' the Espada grunted, painstakingly hoisting himself up, and starting after her. It took him long minutes to finally catch up, but when he did he resolutely grabbed her in his arms and turned around, ignoring her kicks and screams. He only stopped when they were a mile off into the desert, and he had completely run out of breath. 'Bloody hell, Lilinette!' he panted, roughly setting her down in the sand. The girl hissed furiously at him, spitting like a cat before jumping to her feet again.

'We need to go get her,' she stubbornly repeated.

'You're going nowhere. Neliel is fine just where she is.' Stark answered, his voice no longer kind, and eyes sparkling dangerously. 'She is not under attack, and under her current form, she won't be under attack. As long as she cannot fight she is of no use to Aizen. We are all better off this way, Lilinette.'

The little girl looked up rebelliously.

'You don't want her back,' she said, in stunned realization. 'Now that you know where she is, you still don't want her back…'

Stark gazed away, saying nothing.

'She's with the Shinigami,' Lilinette breathed, clenching her fists; the Espada shrugged.

'Does it matter as long as she is safe?'

'And you are not even going to try to help Nnoitra, even though you know…'

He frowned, but again remained silent; Lilinette hissed again and tried to run away, but she froze in mid step. 'Let me go,' she snarled, feeling his Hierro all around her, an invisible glass jar trapping a white butterfly in flight. 'Let me go!' the girl spat. 'Coward! Idiot!'

'What are we gonna do, huh? How are we going to help him? The circumstances have not changed!' he shot, in equal fury. 'Does the fact that, by accident, Nnoitra and Szayel Aporro are slightly lesser bastards than we thought so far change the level of the creature Nnoitra is fighting? Does it make him defeatable? What are we going to do, Lilinette? We going to pop in there like the fucking cavalry brigade, and get between Nnoitra and the guy with the hugest reiatsu on this side of Aizen?'

'Coward!' she screamed again. 'Ya didn't even wake up when Aaroniero died, ya stood by and watched LeRoux get crushed!'

'Not my fights,' Stark growled. 'Not _our_ fights, Lilinette!'

'And when does our fight come, ha?' the fracction questioned, furiously taking distance and running back to slam her shoulder against his Hierro, again, and again, and again, until it was even painful to watch. 'When is our fight? When we're the only two ones left? What the fuck! Do you think it will even matter then? Coward!'

His jaw clenched with an expression that would have made any other but Lilinette cringe in fear, Stark stood and waited for her to wither out her fury.

'Ya think that if we lay low they're gonna let us live?' Lilinette continued to hysterically scream. 'We're fucking Vasto Lorde, they're fucking Shinigami! If we wait until we are the last two left, do you think we're gonna get spared?'

'Grimmjow was. So was Neliel.' he whispered, making her stop. Her little shoulder bruised beyond recognition, she stood with her back to him for long, endless minutes, and though he could not see her face, Stark knew that she was crying. Not for Nnoitra or Szayel Aporro – neither of them deserved her tears. She was not crying for Aaroniero or Di Roi, either. Their deaths simply made her remember fear, a feeling she had not experienced in the long years of being a Hollow – but that in itself would not have made her cry. No. Lilinette was crying for Grimmjow's defeat and humiliation, and, perhaps, she was crying because she still could not accept the fact that there was neither surrender, nor struggle would guarantee survival.

'I thought you let Szayel Aporro get caught 'cuz we thought he killed Neliel,' she whispered. 'I thought that was why ya were going to let Nnoitra die, too. But Neliel is alive, Stark, she's alive…This had nothing to do with her. You didn't wait because of her, you waited because you don't wanna fight, because you _really_ don't wanna fight.'

Giving up, she had slipped to her knees, sobbing so hard that her entire body shook.

'You're still gonna do nothing to help any of them, because you are a coward, just like Aizen. Nothing else.'

She slapped his arm away, but the man did not give up until he had put his forearm over her collarbone and pulled her to his chest. She had bit him, of course, drawing blood through the tunic, but he hadn't let go.

'What do you want me to do?' Stark had whispered, in her ear, in the same sorrowful tone he had used when Aaroniero had died. 'I cannot fight whatever Nnoitra is fighting, Lilinette. You know this. What do you want me to do?'

She'd coiled to his chest, sniffling. 'Szayel Aporro,' Lilinette had said, her words as definitive as a whiplash. 'We're gonna wait until Nnoitra is done,' she had continued, painstakingly – nothing short of an order. 'He's been looking for this all his life. So we're gonna wait until he finally gets it. After that, we're gonna go get Aizen's precious prey. And, after that, Stark, we're gonna go get Szayel Aporro. Because he wants to live just as much as you do. Coward.' She whispered, leaning her forehead on his collarbone. 'Coward.'

Understanding that there was no way out, the Espada nodded.

'One exception to your orders, though,' he added, when he felt she had calmed down enough. 'I will go get Inoue Orihime. Alone. I don't want you anywhere near that reiatsu. I mean it, Lilinette. Nowhere near that thing.'

_He's almost as much of a monster as I am._

Up next - More pointless Szayel pain. Mentally gratifying, but not very plot advancing. Good sex though.


	5. Collection

I cannot warn you enough. This chapter and the next contain barely consensual sexual activity that is long and explicit. Also, extremely rough. Szayel Aporro / Nemu Kurosutchi and, well Ashisogi Jizō/Szayel. Yes, Ashisogi Jizō, granted, in its basic shape. If that hasn't scared you enough, you may actually enjoy the chapter.

**_Stay away from it, pet. Yes, you know who you are. __Ashisogi Jizō is a sword._ **

It also contains manga spoilers, and random various spellings of Kurosutchi. Amusingly enough, for how long and explicit it is, it barely contains any strong language. I have kept to the Anime version of Lumina being turned into reiatsu before she was eaten, mainly because it serves me a little bit later. And because it's hard to put half a giant walking melon in a jar.

Chapter 5 - Do you think Mayuri is enjoying himself yet?

* * *

The Arrancar curled defensively as freezing cold water fell above him and cleared away the blood; the gentle hum of the drainage system, which he had never truly paid attention to before was now painfully loud – the Espada thought he could clearly hear of each individual hydraulic pump move and each sprocket turn, just as he was keenly aware of the movement of blood through his body. And none of it, Szayel Aporro had dully thought as Nemu's mouth had dutifully descended around his sex, would be persuaded to flow in the direction where he needed it most.

The wet warmth of her lips had given him a brief illusion of comfort, not pleasure. Without the poison in his veins, he would not have even registered it before sharp pain had decidedly set in, furiously needling at his nerve endings. He winced, trying to push the girl off so resolutely that he'd almost succeeded. Clearly displeased with his struggles, Nemu had applied her teeth, clamping down just vigorously enough not to draw blood.

'I think you are insulting Nemu' Mayuri commented from somewhere above, his voice ripe with amusement at the Espada's toils. 'She is not very experienced, and I would think she is not very eager, either, but I cannot think she can possibly be _that _bad.'

Oblivious to Kurotsuchi's irony, Szayel had continued to writhe on the stretcher.

'Stop,' he pleaded, with the woman, or her master – it did not matter, not really, since both bodies were mere extensions of the same mind. 'Stop.'

'Changed your mind?' Kurotsuchi obligingly asked. He'd flicked his fingers; like an automaton, Nemu had pulled away. On the edges of the universe, the Shinigami's sword had vibrated audibly as it was unsheathed, the single drop of poison that had trickled down the blade dripping onto the floor with all the resonance of a cathedral bell.

'Nonononono,' the Espada whined, eyes wide in terror. 'My urethra is raw and bloodied from your…'

'I beg to differ,' Mayuri prompted, sternly. 'Your…'

'_My_ catheter,' Szayel spat, clenching his teeth. 'I had finer ones,' he rebelliously muttered, as if, in the end, the only greater truth that needed to be established was the fact that his laboratory had been flawlessly equipped. 'It truly…hurts, so much…'

'Ah, Nemu-chan's honor is restored.' Kurotsuchi chuckled. 'It is not her lack of skill but rather you impotence that's causing the lack of reaction.'

Szayel chewed on the insult, but remained quiet, savoring the absence of pain as if it had been the greatest and most sensual of pleasures.

'Yet, if this is the case, I am at a loss of what to do next, Espada,' the Shinigami shrugged, the sword lurking threateningly at the outskirts of Szayel's field of vision.

_Think, think, think… _

A strong flicker of light, quick and insidious as a sparkle of electricity, illuminated the Octava's eyes.

'Perhaps,' he said, humbly, 'the merest morsel of reiatsu…'

Kurotsuchi slapped him across the face, briefly, powerfully and without anger. A correction, no more.

'I must congratulate you on your love of your wretched existence, Perfect Being,' Mayuri responded. 'How very…animal survival instinct of you. I could interpret that little request as an attempt at deception,' the Shinigami mused. 'It would be most disappointing, now that I was beginning to look forward to a fruitful collaboration. Are you, by any chance, trying to deceive me into letting you recover, Szayel Aporro Granz?'

'No,' Szayel had breathed, 'no.'

'How kind of you to volunteer your full self, then,' Mayuri purred. 'Nemu.'

'Yes, Mayuri-sama.'

'Reward the Octava's eagerness in participating to our research with some of the trash he consumed earlier. I hope you collected some?'

Without answering, the young woman walked towards the specimen rack, extracting a small, opaque vial. She uncorked it carefully, and, from yards away, the delicious smell of Lumina's remains invaded Szayel's sense of smell, making his entire body tense with yearning.

He'd parted his lips and licked them in desperate anticipation, long before Nemu had returned to his side, at a maddeningly slow pace; the woman had tarried in lowering the vial to his mouth, and he'd aimed a pleading, tortured glace up at her. The look she had returned was not as impassible as usual, but truly, passionately hate-filled, demonstrating that for all her mechanical obedience, Nemu had a mind of her own and that she wanted him to suffer. And wait, and yearn.

She'd finally tilted the vial to his lips after what had felt like ages of torturous expectation. A few shards of purple light - not cold and cutting as the Quincy's reiatsu, but sweet and flavored as rose water – had fallen onto his tongue. He'd crushed them against the top of his mouth, and, as the trickle of strength had run through his body, Szayel's head had lolled back, delicate pink tresses against ecstatic, pale features.

Thinking he'd had enough, Nemu had tried to lift the vial away, but the Espada's fingers had encircled her wrist in an iron grip, tilting the container further. He moaned with pleasure, lifting his head off the stretcher eagerly swallowing more…just a bit little more. Szayel felt his flesh growing back, filling the canals that crossed each other in his chest and abdomen; his free hand trailed to his sternum, to assure the puncture was truly gone. In true alarm, Nemu had tried to get the remaining shards of Lumina away from him, but she had not pulled away strongly enough to escape the Arrancar's desperately clenched fingers.

'Enough,' Kurotsuchi intervened, slapping Szayel Aporro's eager hand off. The motion had caused the vial to crush the Octava's upper lip, but with the trickle of blood, a final shard of Lumina had fallen into her creator's mouth. Free of the Espada, Nemu had turned away, taking the still half full vial with her.

'More' Szayel pleaded softly, licking his half parted lips. 'Please. More.'

'Enough,' the Shinigami repeated conclusively, leaning in to curiously examine the Octava's healed torso. He'd slipped his strong fingers, which were clad in immaculately white gloves, through the pink tresses allowing the Arrancar to briefly enjoy the gentleness of the touch before the fingers had violently clenched and slammed Szayel's head against the stretcher. A thousand arches of pain had opened and closed in the Arrancar's skull, a dry notice of the fact that Lumina's reiatsu had not been sufficient to both heal his wounds and rid his body of the Shinigami's poison. 'I knew exactly when to stop you,' Kurotsuchi whispered. 'Do you think your body still has enough secrets for you to fight my will? Hopeless little puppet of an uncaring God. Not a mystery, and no more important to the one that made you than Nemu is to me.'

Szayel caught a glimpse of the woman's frame stiffening, a brief, uncontrolled reaction to Mayuri's demeaning words – whatever it had been, however, it had passed quickly enough. With measured, slow gestures Nemu had put the vial away and closed the specimen rack.

'Stand,' Kurosutchi commanded, more for the pleasure of hearing himself speak than because the word was needed. The powerful yank of his hand which had remained viciously clasped Szayel's hair would have assured compliance by itself.

Strong enough to stand, but not strong enough to resist Kurosutchi's pull and crushing reiatsu, the Espada had dazedly stumbled to his feet, idly wondering if he had felt this naked and vulnerable when he had first stood under Aizen's mockingly interested glance. The Shinigami had not let him dwell on the thought.

He'd pushed Szayel against a flat and cold deactivated portion of a control panel; even in his shaken state, the Espada had powerfully leaned against the smooth stone edge, pushing back in a desperate attempt at protecting the delicate, embedded buttons. The movement, which had prompted Kurotsuchi into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, had caused him to spread his bare feet in search of balance. Already out of breath, the Arrancar waited with his eyes closed – disgusted by the display, Kurotsuchi let go of the man's hair, allowing him a brief, deceitful respite.

One of the captain's gloved hands began its descent along Szayel's chest while the other trailed gently upwards on his thigh. Enhanced by the drug, and standing in sharp contrast with the pain he had thus far endured, the pleasure had invaded all of the Octava's pleasure receptors, shrouding them with sweet, maddening warmth. The fingers that gently ascended his legs briefly brushed against the lower part of the Arrancar's tight and hairless scrotum – unable to control the reflex, Szayel had shuddered and leaned further in, making himself more available to the touch. Kurotsuchi had grabbed, with enough strength to cause a slight, mind rending twinge of pain, and even more mind rending pleasure. Just as with every prick and pull of every needle and tube, the Octava's mind allowed him enough time to feel all flavor of the touches, the sensation of the rough texture of the Shinigami's glove against his pink nipples leaving a sweet and almost physical aftertaste in his mouth.

'Kill me,' the Espada had whimpered, voicing an echo of a stray thought. 'when you are done, Shinigami.'

Mayuri's fingers tickled on the Arrancar's lower abdomen.

'Damn you,' Szayel groaned. 'Promise you will kill me. After, during…'

His voice had melted, faded away, as the sensation receded, allowing him some measure of rational thought.

'You would like to die climaxing wouldn't you, Arrancar,' Kurotsuchi whispered. 'Is that how you died the first time around?'

'I cannot remember,' the Espada honestly panted. 'I have no memories before Aizen-sama. Nothing before him…'

With uncanny precision, the gloved hand had found the sphincter and resolutely pushed the middle finger past it; Mayuri had expected some sound, some protest to the intrusion but Szayel had produced none – to his amazement, Kurotsuchi had discovered he liked this little surprise even better. He'd traced the Espada's spine with the long, strengthened fingernail, watching the pink tresses caress the young man's shoulders as Szayel shuddered and spread himself wider, the sterile, unused termination of a human digestive system that had never processed solid food yielding and soft under the Shinigami's touch.

A second finger curved inward, angled for maximum pleasure, finding and quickly brushing past the prostate gland without applying significant pressure. The movement elicited the first, shy twinge of an erection.

'For whose amusement did he make you anatomically complete?' Kurotsuchi cooed. 'His? Yours?'

'I am not a gigai,' Szayel Aporro grunted, in sudden fury. With blinding speed, the Shinigami painfully pressed his scrotum against the cold stone. The Espada yelped weakly, straightening to get away from the touch.

'Don't talk back to me, mockery of creation,' Kurotsuchi hissed, 'lest you want your precious cavities explored with the sharp end of a scalpel. Don't think for a second I would not do it,' Mayuri detachedly added. 'There is little else I enjoy more – just ask Nemu-chan, here…and if I have that much curiosity for opening and reopening things I have crafted myself, just imagine how much curiosity I have for other people's creations.'

With wide, frightened golden eyes, Szayel had tried to meet the woman's glance and ascertain the truth in her master's words; she was not watching, however. Fingers entwined in her lap, Nemu was staring blankly at the floor, her features obscured by her dark, long hair. He'd had no time to lend her any further attention – Kurotsuchi's fingers had returned to the opening, feeling gently around the tight rim before plunging forward, deep enough to entice, but not deep enough for substantial sensation. The Arrancar had pushed back impatiently, but obtained no reward. Kurotsuchi had simply withdrawn his hand. Filled with frustration and arousal, both monstrously fed by the painfully slow passage of time, Szayel had lowered his chin to his chest, panting. Millennia passed between each intake of cold air and each hot exhalation, as millennia passed between each movement of Mayuri's hand.

_Please,_ Szayel had senselessly thought, in an odd echo of what had gone through his mind while Kurotsuchi's blade had pierced his chest. _Quickly. Quickly. Quickly._

He'd whimpered and writhed, hoping to entice more depth, only marginally aware of the fact that his sex now pointed decidedly upwards, long, thin and as frightfully pale as the rest of his skin. The Espada tried to look over his shoulder, pleading for mercy with each cut off breath that escaped his lips – he'd found none. Kurotsuchi had slapped him across the face again – another scholarly correction – before adding a third finger to the two that were already teasing the sphincter's rim. Then, without warning, he'd added a fourth, stretching the dry flesh into the realm of pain.

'No, no,' Szayel had whined, in fright, for the first time tensing to reject the touch. 'Too much.'

'It is not the first time you play at this, Perfect Being,' Kurotsuchi snickered. 'You must have some game accessories hidden somewhere…'

The Octava had indicated a wall panel to the side, pointing towards it with a sharp jerk of his chin. Without rush, almost pleased to see him squirm against her captain's fingers, which clearly spread his flesh beyond endurance, Nemu had opened the wall panel and very slowly extracted a small, dark bottle. To Szayel's despair, Kurotsuchi had not withdrawn his fingers while he uncorked the bottle with the thumb of his free hand. He'd even spread them further apart.

'Hm,' Mayuri muttered to himself. 'This might stain my gloves.'

'Please,' Szayel begged, his breath coming out in a desperate litany. 'Please, please, please.' He keenly felt the other man's fingernails though the material of the glove; he also felt a trickle of hot moisture trickling down his thigh, but did not give himself time to wonder whether it was blood. His erection was full, tiny droplets of stingingly hot liquid beginning to gather at the end of his not fully healed urethra.

_Pleasure. Pain. Time. No distinction._

'Please.'

_End it._

Kurotsuchi withdrew his fingers, not before spreading the flesh one final time. Freed at last, Szayel fell forward, his sex trapped between his hot stomach and the cold stone of the panel before him. He'd lain his cheek on the stone, registering each dull, dead click as if hammers had been resonating inside of his skull. He closed his eyes, oblivious to all sensation but the painful pressure in his groin, and lay still waiting for release, or mercy, or death, whichever came first. In the end, he was assured that they were one and the same.

He felt the cold, rounded tip of something at the edge of his sphincter, but kept his eyes closed, praying that the sensation was an illusion. Praying that it was not. The thing was excruciatingly cold but slick, and made its way in quickly and seamlessly, the lubricant prickling ever so slightly on the torn flesh. An inch, another inch…no longer smooth and metallic, no longer cold. Awakened by maddening desire, Szayel Aporro willed himself up and backwards, on the thatched, rough texture. Teasing, Mayuri had pulled the long, straight handle of his sword out of the other man's body before the Espada could enjoy it for too long.

'Your sword?' the Octava articulated, the words forming in his chest rather than on his open and dry lips.

'I wouldn't soil myself with you,' Mayuri had responded. 'Besides,' he added, aligning the metal reinforcement of the zanpakutoh's hilt with the other man's eager and moist opening, but carefully not allowing Szayel any leeway or control, by lodging his hand on the back of the Espada's neck, 'after he disobeyed my will, he deserves the humiliation. As do you.'

He thrust the handle of the sword forward, along half its length – as if jolted by electricity, the Arrancar had arched, molding himself on the thick, rough object and emitting small, strangled and disconcerting squeals as each of the knots that decorated the hilt slipped into his body. Repeating the same noises, louder, as the knots slipped out, slowly. Almost kindly. Szayel had slinked back, besides himself with pleasure and looking for other contact than the cold stone; the thought that the Arrancar blindly sought affection in the position that he was in amused Kurotsuchi deeply.

Here, the Shinigami thought, letting Szayel's whimpers and moans guide the depth and rhythm of his movement, was a _thing_ that was neither human nor ghost. A creature that had left behind a rage filled mortal existence, or perhaps committed enough crimes against his fellow men to earn his place in hell. And yet, in his wretched position, nude, wounded and frail, at the absolute mercy of en enemy who had defeated and humiliated him – who would continue to humiliate him – without the mastery of his senses and in complete slavery to the pleasures of his body, whatever the source, the Espada…The Arrancar, the Hollow, sought affection and warmth.

'How sweet' Kurotsuchi had cackled, his fingers clasping tightly at Szayel's frail neck, and pushing the Espada forward onto the stone he was trying to get away from. Beads of clear sweat covered the young man's neck and shoulders, causing his pink hair to cling to the wet skin, and each of his cut off breaths was a prayer, or a curse, or a plea. 'Could I ask you to bleed for me now, Szayel Aporro Granz?' Mayuri asked. 'Would you enjoy that too?'

The Octava had shaken his head in desperate denial, and tried to look over his shoulder to make sure Kurotsuchi would not put his threat in practice. The Shinigami's hand kept him securely facing ahead, and, to punish the attempt at regaining control, Mayuri had brutally twisted the zanpakutoh's handle. Szayel had fallen forward, slipping out of the Shinigami's reach – the fingernail of the captain's left middle finger had cut deeply across the Arrancar's back, and Mayuri had cackled manically, noticing that the Espada's fingers had descended to encircle the pale erection.

Blushing with pain, pleasure, and perhaps shame, Szayel slipped his fingers upwards and downwards, slowly, attempting to keep the pressure at a bearable level. The erection was still painful, mercilessly crushing his raw urethra, yet the sensation was just one among a million others that soared through his body, filling his veins with hot honey.

'Nemu-chan,' Kurotsuchi had distractedly prompted, taking the sword's handle out of the Espada's hungering body and pulling him straight. Surprised and frightened by the change, Szayel had staggered back far more than justifiable, bare cold feet and empty honey colored eyes.

'Yes, Mayuri-sama,' the young woman whispered. Once again reading her master's mind, she had stepped between Szayel and the control panel, her kimono flapping gracefully to the ground and falling around her ankles in soft folds, like the wings of thousands of butterflies. Nemu leaned forward, her small, round breasts and their dark tips swaying ever so slightly as she spread herself to adjust to the Espada's height.

Szayel's eyes narrowed.

Her back and shoulders were criss-crossed by a myriad of tiny scars, long, white grooves stretching from the roots of her hair to the small dimples on either side of her spine. Disconcerted, but unable to question, Szayel had stepped forward pressing his hands on the stone, on either side of the woman's still body. He'd leaned over her, breathing in her reiatsu, her false, fabricated reiatsu, the reiatsu of a fracction, which, above all made him hungry, but although Nemu had pushed back, bringing her sex close enough for him to feel its warmth, Szayel had straightened to avoid her.

Because, along with the reiatsu, he had smelled something else. Something familiar, the same thing he had smelled on the Quincy.

_Hate. _But not for himself.

Misreading the Espada's hesitation, Mayuri had laughed.

'You prefer your amorphous little melons, Arrancar?'

The wooden scabbard of the zanpakutoh had brushed under his scrotum, to roughly press against Nemu's sex. She had made no sound, impassible, emotionless and all but soulless, her wide eyes as dark and deep as the marble they reflected in.

'That-a-way,' Kurotsuchi had prompted. 'In case lack of practice made you forget, that is.'

The Shinigami's fingers found their way inside Szayel's body, causing his sex to throb and prompting action. Unable to resist, the Espada brought his chest close to the woman's cold and scarred back, only to be assaulted by her smell, which made him open his mouth and lick his lips, with hunger almost more desperate than the yearning in his groin.

'You're thinking bad thoughts about my daughter,' Mayuri had hissed, pulling Szayel's head so far back that the Espada had chocked. 'My bandage, Arrancar, not yours.'

Szayel groaned and yielded, softly finding his way into the woman's dry, but surprisingly hot sex. He breathed out heavily, withdrawing half length only to push in again, as roughly as Kurotsuchi's sword scabbard pressed against his prostate, then continued, taking the rhythm of his movement and breath from the Shinigami's thrusts. Unlike the straight, knotted handle, the scabbard was slightly curved, smoother, longer…kinder.

'Just fuck me,' the Espada whimpered, suddenly and violently pushing back along the scabbard's length. To Mayuri's delight, Szayel Aporro had latched his pale fingers onto Nemu's equally pale flanks, keeping the woman's bottom glued to his hairless and concave lower abdomen.

'Good,' Kurotsuchi had moaned, for the first time, his voice suddenly deep and throaty. 'Pretty, sweet…Good, Nemu-chan. So very, very good.'

The scabbard rotated slowly inside Szayel's body, completing one mind rending circle after the other as the Shinigami continued to slowly move it in and out.

'Faster,' Szayel commanded, his exalted senses causing him to forget his place in the little charade. 'Faster, damn you…' In response, Kurotsuchi had pulled the scabbard almost completely loose; the Arrancar had had no time to protest before the next, violent thrust had caused him to all but collapse on top of Nemu. Through the haze of his pleasure, through the maddening sensation of sweat and lubricant and perhaps blood trickling on the back of his thighs, the Espada remained aware of the irritating rub of his sex against the woman's stubbornly dry insides. Driven by self preservation instincts, rather than any sense of kindness or desire of not hurting the gigai, Szayel had let his hand slide softly over the woman's stomach, gently pressing her to his chest.

Then, for a moment, a single moment, he had forgotten he had used the girl he now held as receptacle to his revival. Instead, he'd taken solace in the long forgotten heat of the woman's frail shape – not of her sex, but of her shoulders moving against his chest, of her little firm breasts touching his arm – a stray memory that his body had preserved, though his mind had long buried.

He whispered a foreign name in her ear, forgetting it before it fully left his lips, then brought his hand lower, reaching for the folds of her sex.

'Don't touch me!' Nemu hissed, coldly and violently. 'Don't touch me, abomination! It's enough that he…' She suddenly cut off her own anger, and leaned forward, spreading her legs wider and desperately writhing out of his embrace. The sharp, wooden tip of Kurotsuchi's scabbard scraped deeply inside him, even as the Shinigami brutally pulled him back.

'Faster?' Mayuri asked, the next movement of the sword sending Szayel into an uncontrollable shudder; the heat that had been endlessly pooling in his scrotum and stomach began radiating outwards through his overly stimulated nerve endings. No longer hot honey, but liquid fire, running from his sex to his thighs and cold toes, upwards across his chest, along his arms…

'Nemu,' Kurotsuchi sharply commanded.

Uncaring for the Espada's pained groan, Nemu had pulled herself off Szayel's erection. She kneeled, and fumbled though her kimono, extracting a small, rounded box and inserting its contents in her mouth with precise, mechanical gestures. She did not give Szayel time to question her gestures; he probably would not have questioned them even if he had not been drugged by his pleasure and Kurotsuchi's accursed poison. Though the woman's mouth was dry plastic, the Espada climaxed, violently tensing himself around the Shinigami's curved scabbard, losing himself for what felt like millennia, for what was millennia, mouth open and gasping for air that simply would not come fast enough.

When it had finally been over, Szayel Aporro slipped to his knees, shivering, whimpering and grabbing hold of the first solid thing before him. His arms snaked around Nemu's shoulders, his forehead slumping to her bare chest, eyeglasses blurred with steam and body streaming with sweat.

As if Szayel had not been helplessly clinging to her body, Nemu had extracted the diaphragm from her mouth, knotted it and placed it on the button pane behind them. She had then pushed the Arrancar away; he'd yielded easily, slipping aside and leaning his sweaty back on the cool stone.

The Espada waited with his eyes closed, allowing his breath to settle and concentrating on the fading pleasure for fear of letting himself guess what would happen next. The only thing he was painfully assured of, however, was that the Shinigami captain would not kill him – he knew it, because in the other man's stead, he would not have dispensed with such a rich source of information either. Not when there were so many interesting experiments still left to perform – pain thresholds, solid food consumption, various poisons, antigens and bacteria, infections…resistance to hunger and thirst.

Szayel pulled his knees to his chest, leaning his forehead on them. Nnoitra's crazed reiatsu was screaming in his mind, just now that Grimmjow's had finally, mercifully stopped, though he was still there. For a moment, he had even thought he had felt Neliel…Neliel…The Shinigami's drug must have been powerful, indeed, as well as posessed some astounding hallucinogenic qualities. He had sealed Neliel's reiatsu, all of her reiatsu. She could not have been there.

* * *

Up next - I blame Tito Kube for the way in which you release Fornicares, Szayel. Not my fault. Really!


	6. Ghost in the shell

Same extreme M warnings apply.

**Yes, pet, you said you would read this, but I rather you would not. I am not that starved. If you jot down - Sorry, Matron, I cannot stand yaoi, I will understand. No, really, I would.**

Chapter contains strong sexual male on male play. Barely consensual sexual activity, Mayuiri Kurosutchi/Szayel Aporro.

Other than than, random spellings of Kurosutchi (seen that spelled at thousand ways now). No strong language at all. Amazing.

Chapter 6 - Where Szayel Aporro learns that releasing Fornicares in public is NotThatClever (I wouldn't do it, and I am just clever enough).

* * *

The Octava opened his eyes but immediately closed them again, feeling thoroughly nauseated by the faint fluorescent light. He still saw too much, heard too much…felt too much.

'I hope good fun was had by all,' Kurotsuchi chimed from above, in his unpleasant, high pitched chuckle. 'That was most generous of you, Szayel Aporro Granz,' he added, narrowing his eyes to look at the small plastic recipient on the counter top.

The Shinigami had started to take a step forward, and stopped short, his voice dropping to a blood curling chuckle.

'What do you know?' Mayuri said, in innocent amazement. 'A good time was had by all, including myself. I find myself embarrassingly stirred by your thoroughly unexpected show of compliance. Odd sensation, that,' he continued, frowning slightly. 'My blood has the tendency of staying in my brain at all times.'

The Octava had forced his eyes half open, careful not to set on another fit of nausea. He looked at Nemu through his eyelashes, softly tilting his head to the side. The smell of her hatred was growing stronger – if he had been able to concentrate, he was sure he would have seen the dark cloud of furiously vibrating spirit particles gathering about her. She stared blankly ahead, her face as expressionless as usual. However, even in the dim lighting, Szayel's overly keen eyes clearly made out the quickly drying trails of tears, criss-crossing down her rounded cheeks just as the scars that criss-crossed down her back.

'I hope you can stand a bit more suspense, Octava Espada. Nemu-chan.' Kurotsuchi prompted.

She had not moved with her regular, fluid efficiency. In fact, she had visibly hesitated, stubbornly looking away from her maker in clear disgust of him, as well as of herself.

'Nemu,' Mayuri snarled, snapping his fingers. This time, the woman had swallowed dry and inched forward, her dull black eyes crossing Szayel's dark honey glance. He'd bowed his head, and the gleam of the fluorescent lighting across his mask had concealed the equally sharp gleam of clarity in his eyes.

He'd decidedly pressed his hand on Nemu's shoulder, keeping her in place, slowly raising himself to his knees in her stead. He'd staggered, and solely maintained his balance by grabbing hold of Kurotsuchi's belt. After a brief, confused frown, the Shinigami had laughed.

'What part of 'I will not soil myself with you' did you miss, Arrancar?' Kurotsuchi purred. With a gesture that his kind, soft tone rendered unpredictable, he had hit the Espada across the face so hard that Szayel had fallen back, hitting his head on the edge of the button board. His mask had fallen off and he had whimpered loudly – insidious echoes of pain and dizziness darting randomly though his skull. Still, by now, the notion that what seemed like a century to him was a single split second for the world outside had set in, and his mind was clear enough to dismiss the insufferably slow passage of time. Szayel brought his delicate folded fingers to the corner of his lips, wiping away the trickle of blood, before blindly feeling across the floor for his glasses. He put his mask back on, quieting the screaming, loose tentacles of his reiatsu, then looked up at Kurotsuchi. Honey crossed gold.

Szayel slithered forward on his hands and knees, soft pink hair framing still blushing, effeminate features – a show of languid, serpentine grace of the pale, frail body, muscles tensing mesmerizingly under the skin that still glowed with sweat. He did not reach for Kurotsuchi's belt; instead, he crawled to the Shinigami's feet, looking up. Szayel smiled, licking the blood off his lips, before flexing his arms to bring himself lower, and wrapping his tongue around the zanpakutoh's scabbard.

He closed his eyes and moaned, as if he'd been experiencing the most exquisite of pleasures, and slowly worked himself down, rather than up, taking the tip into his mouth. His arms were flexed so low that his chest almost touched the floor – Kurotsuchi took a step forward, the wooden scabbard jabbing roughly against the Octava's gums; Szayel winced but continued to lick upwards, ignoring the metallic taste of the lubricant, and looking up at Mayuri with half open, fever ridden eyes.

In turn, Kurotsuchi continued to watch, his cold, dispassionate, clinical glance sliding over the other man's bare, gleaming body, as smoothly as Szayel's lips tongue slipped along the polished length of the wood. Unsure of weather he was moving too fast, but desperate to release the pressure in his upper arms and shoulders, the Espada had slowly risen to his knees. He shot an uncertain glance up at Mayuri, almost pleading with the other man not to move away, and Kurotsuchi had not, allowing Szayel Aporro's frail fingers to shyly grasp his belt as the Octava pulled himself straight.

He began trailing small kisses along the straight, ribbed handle of the Shinigami's sword, then licked upwards, taking the rounded, metallic tip fully into his mouth, before sliding his lips and tongue downwards on the hilt's opposite side. Letting Kurotsuchi see every elaborated, circular motion of his tongue, Szayel had resolutely continued to work on the metal; he wrapped his arms around the other man's waist, pointedly ignoring the strong smell of antiseptic that came off Mayuri's kimono. He once again brought himself down, brushing the side of his face against the Shinigami's hard sex, which was clearly palpable though the material of his hakama.

The Espada briefly abandoned the sword, twisting his neck at an impossible angle to press his lips over the Kurotsuchi's erection, breathing and moaning hotly through the fabric. He timidly reached though the folds, reaching for the Shinigami's testicles, and all the while working his tongue around each of the knots that decorated the hilt of Mayuri's zanpakutoh. The tensed tip of Szayel's tongue flicked against the handle's metal termination, finally causing Kurotsuchi to groan.

Encouraged by the sound, which seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere inside the Shinigami's body, Szayel Aporro had mistakenly thought he could grab the sword and yank it out of his way. He'd barely reached for the hilt that his saliva had made completely wet when Kurotsuchi's hand had latched onto his throat, crushing his windpipe between iron thumb and forefinger.

'Do…not…ever,' Mayuri snarled, taking delight in the terror on the Arrancar's features, 'try to take my sword from me again.' The Espada chocked, nodding as fast as he could, but the pressure did not lessen. With excruciatingly slow gestures, Kurotsuchi unwrapped his belt, and let the silk strap, along with the sword, fall to the side. He had not let go of Szayel's throat until the Octava's eyes had started to water; when salty streams had started trickling down the young man's pointy features, the Shinigami had let go just enough to allow an infinitesimally small quantity of air to wheeze painfully into the Espada's lungs , between his widely spread lips.

'You're not pulling away, Arrancar,' Mayuri observed amusedly, rhythmically closing and releasing Szayel's air intake, but correctly noting that the Octava still latched on to his waist. 'Even Nemu would be fighting to get away from me at this point, and she has the certainty that I will always bring her back.'

The Shinigami's fingers let go of Szayel's neck, and the Espada breathed in hungrily. After a few painful gasps, the Arrancar lowered his gaze, and humbly found Kurotsuchi's erection. He moaned again, but did not immediately take the other man's sex in his mouth. Instead, he touched it with both hands, skilled, nervous fingers sliding along the length that teasing, hot breaths caressed.

Szayel Aporro closed his eyes, willing his tongue to writhe over Kurotsuchi's testicles; his lips followed, imitating the motions and pressure of biting into a soft, sweet fruit. Despite the fact that Mayuri's fingers painfully tugged at his hair, he repeated the movement on the base of the Shinigami's sex.

'Did he build you for this?' Mayuri ironically asked, though his eyes rolled back as Szayel's tongue wrapped itself around his erection, tight and warm. The Espada made no move, pretending he had not heard the taunt. Lips powerfully clenched, he'd taken Kurotsuchi's sex in, tongue rolling and flicking across and along the sensitive skin. 'And how often does he get to use you?'

In response, the Octava had applied his teeth to the inflated tip of Mayuri's gland, lips clearing away the folds of skin, and he'd continued sucking, biting and licking in earnest, swallowing the excess saliva all of the while aware of Nemu's glance, which was fixated on his back, a faint reminder of the remote hope that he could still turn all this madness in his favor, or at least find someone who could help him escape it. He'd dug his hands into the Shinigami's flanks, whimpering and breathing up and down Kurotsuchi's sex, bitterly wishing himself dead, wishing himself never born, into this life, into the other life…It did not matter, he did not truly care.

'Kill me,' Szayel Aporro begged, his tongue tracing the folds of skin and open, salty slit. 'No jars, no probes, no labels…'

Kurotsuchi painfully pinched at a pink nipple, drawing blood and provoking ages of excruciating pain.

'Why would I do something that you would not?' His sex tensed against Szayel's tongue as the Octava's eyes darted away in fear that Mayuri could somehow distinguish as genuine. 'I see what you are afraid of, Szayel Aporro Granz. You're not afraid of me, you're afraid of yourself…You bore me.'

The Shinigami jerked the Arrancar's head back, forcing frozen honey across glittering gold once more; Szayel tried to push his mouth over Mayuri's sex, but the solid grip of the iron fingers entangled in his hair had kept him in place.

'Show me something new,' Mayuri uttered, gently, tracing his long, sharp fingernail over the Espada's parted lips. Leaning in to breathe in his pained exhalations. Removing his glasses, and listening to the panicked screams of his reiatsu, and only putting the Octava's glasses back on when simply causing him mental anguish was no longer enough.

'Show me how you achieve your…resurrection,' the Shinigami said. 'Show me how you release Fornicares.'

Kurotsuchi let go of Szayel Aporro's hair; the Arrancar's chin had come forward slowly, but without protest. He had licked up the shaft, before his lips had gripped lightly, and rolled his tongue around the gland before pressing his head downwards, and allowing it to slide past the top of his mouth, past his gag reflex, and into his throat.

Szayel closed his eyes, and imagined.

Imagined the cool, sharp edges of the sword in his mouth. The taste of blood, just barely emerging before it was reabsorbed into a body that was dead and alive at the same time. He imagined the sword moving past his gag reflex, down his esophagus – cold, but alive with energy, knowledge and power, energy, knowledge and power that would contribute to his own, if only he tried enough. If only he learned enough, waited enough…Suffered enough. He imagined her whispering to him while sliding down, the blade slowly dissipating into energy particles that drifted through his flesh, as it passed by his heart, imagined the explosion and the release.

Fornicares, however, was flat.

She did not writhe or throb out of his control, or push forward of her own accord, like Kurotsuchi Mayuri's thick sex. He'd breathed in only twice before the Shinigami's hand had resolutely cut off his air supply. Szayel swallowed reflexively, but the solid wheight which pressed on his windpipe and esophagus did not pass. It just became thicker and harder.

The Espada gagged, gasping for air and opening his mouth to lure it in, instead allowing Kurotsuchi's sex further down his throat. He chocked and coughed, the desperate clasp of his muscles only enticing Mayuri further. Thin, white fingers ran up the sparsely haired portion of the Shinigami's lower abdomen, without pushing away.

Szayel's desperate show of submission helped little. Hoping that he could, at least, free his nostrils he shook his head and writhed, his body tensing and relaxing alternatively. The Shinigami's ruthless erection remained lodged in his throat, and pushed irremediably, in defensively forward. The Octava moaned, no longer in fake pleasure, but in genuine pain; he swallowed dry and gagged. His brow covered in sweat, he looked up at Kurotsuchi Mayuri, then closed his eyes, whimpering, shivering and finally yielding completely. His widely angled upper row of teeth scraped against the Shinigami's stomach.

Mayuri held the Octava's head in place for long, torturous seconds, starving him of air and letting his convulsing muscles milk out an orgasm. He extracted additional, heightened pleasure from Szayel's desperate attempts of breathing in, from the tears and sweat that slid down his cheeks and knotted under his chin.

After he'd achieved his pleasure, Kurotsuchi had cast the Espada aside, watching in amusement as Szayel Aporro fought for his breath and self control. He found the former, but the latter escaped him; the Octava shakily stood, fighting and losing at each step. He'd bent over the first recipient in his way, profusely vomiting semen and bile for almost as long as it had taken Kurotsuchi to re-adjust his clothes, making Mayuri distractedly wonder at how much liquid Szayel's digestive tract had produced in less than an hour.

'I see your precious Aizen has not seen to it that you make the most of your single natural talent,' Mayuri mused, snapping his zanpakutoh back in place. 'Your conduct with this is far less graceful than I had expected.'

Still retching and feeling as if his skin had been covered in acid rather than sweat, Szayel Aporro had swallowed the furious reflex of his body. He had, however, been less than fortunate with the acidic reflex of his mind.

'No, indeed. Much like all other Shinigami, Aizen-sama prefers stabbing as well as fucking people from behind.'

He had not meant to meet Nemu's glance, but this time, it had been the woman to seek eye contact. She had looked up at the Espada, her black eyes alive with disbelief, and unexplainable compassion.

'Like so?' Kurotsuchi inquired, kindly, leaning over the Espada's shoulder. Szayel's eyes had widened as he'd finally understood what had prompted Nemu's sudden show of emotion; the Shinigami's long fingernail had scraped along his spine, before resolutely finding its way past Szayel's sphincter, with no intention of causing pleasure. The Octava's back straightened and stiffened, his breath frozen in his chest. The fingernail was thin enough – _sharp enough –_ for its progress to be all but noticeable, barely even uncomfortable, yet…

'You are suddenly very quiet, Perfect Being,' Kurotsuchi observed, in a low purr.

Szayel did not respond, his mind fixed on calculating how long the straight portion of his colon was, according to his height – and, more importantly, if it was longer than Mayuri's needle-like nail. He'd glanced down at Nemu, as if expecting her to know the answer, and this time, compassion had reigned in her eyes, a delicate flower in full bloom, causing new uncontrollable dread to seize the Arrancar's chest.

'Shinigami,' he whispered, understanding that Kurotsuchi had done this before and would most likely not stop. Szayel slowly began pulling away, but the movement was immediately punished by a short stab of the fingernail, which had, the Octava realized, progressed far deeper than he'd guessed.

The palm of his hand pressing softly against Szayel's flesh, Kurotsuchi brought himself closer. In his turn, the Espada remained impossibly still, impossibly straight, in spite of the fact that Mayuri's chest was now pressed to his back.

Taking his time, the Shinigami had reached around Szayel's waist to turn on the control panel; soft, green light emanated from the depth of the stone, bringing the buttons to life. His arm almost affectionately wrapped around Szayel's chest, Mayuri had explored the folder structure on the wide screen before him at his leisure, taking a few minutes to flick through the data on Ishida Uryu. He'd nodded in consent, the sharp chin of his mask pressing in Szayel's shoulder.

'Not bad,' he said, in a congratulatory tone. 'New weapons and extremely high levels of reiatsu for a mere human, Quincy or not. It makes me wonder who taught him how to rekindle his powers, if he is the last of his kind…Thank you, Szayel Aporro, your documentation will prove most useful later on.'

He'd clicked the folder on the Quincy away, then cackled.

'Don't grind your teeth, Espada, it's such an annoying sound…' The fingernail twisted, almost drawing blood, but not quite, or a least, not yet.

'Now, where were we?' Kurotsuchi muttered. 'Containers.' He pressed a large button at the side of the panel, and behind them, the wall opened, long and flexible metallic arms bringing forth a score of tall glass containers, of various widths and shapes. Each of them was sealed by a metal cap, and equipped with a small, round monitor, planted there to keep track of the readings of the many probes that hung inside.

'Please,' Szayel whispered, looking away from the three dimensional renditions of the containers, which spun slowly on the screen before him. 'You have won, you have endlessly won. End it…'

Deaf to the Arrancar's pleas, and consumed with the brief descriptions of the containers, Mayuri had inched forward to read the small script. The motion had caused his fingernail to poke sharply inside the other man's body, and Szayel had risen on his toes to escape the touch. Kurotsuchi found a container to his liking, and selected it. The others slipped quietly back inside the wall.

'No…you have everything you need from me…' the Espada begged. 'And,' he added, feverishly, searching for something, anything that would save him, 'I can tell you everything you want about the others! The access codes to the Hongyaku room, the access codes to Inoue Orihime's cell…Everything I know about Aizen, Ichimaru and Tousen…Just do not…'

'Do not be ridiculous,' Kurotsuchi answered. 'I have no need for any of that anymore. Help me with the label.'

Szayel lowered his head, a new, yet oddly familiar pressure gathering in his chest, like a sphere of molten iron. The sensation rose slowly, causing his throat to itch and sting on the inside. Then, for the first time in his new lifetime, the Arrancar wept, like the human he had been. Softly, quietly, with no hope of being heard and no distaste at being seen.

'Specimen name – Szayel Aporro Granz.' Kurotsuchi muttered, typing awkwardly with one finger. 'Gender – ah, barely male. Type: Vasto Lorde. Quite a satisfaction, that. Body type: human. Wheight…For the love of God, not metric system!' he grumbled in dismay. 'This world is truly backwards. Nemu-chan?'

'Sixty-eight kilograms for one meter and eighty seven centimeters in height,' the woman responded, in a void voice.

Kurotsuchi raised the Espada's chin glove becoming soaked in tears and sweat. He forced Szayel to look at the screen, where two, sterile green dots blinked impatiently after the prompt _Specimen status._

'Let's hear it, Perfect Being,' the Shinigami said, kindly. 'After all is said and done, do you really wish to die for one last time?'

'Yes,' Szayel had sobbed. 'Yes, yes…no…' Silence had stretched, as vast and dry as all the sands of time. As all the sands of Hueco Mundo. 'No,' the Arrancar whispered, in the sudden and final triumph of matter over mind, that he had hoped to prevent by making the Shinigami kill him. 'No, I don't want to die.'

Kurotsuchi yanked his fingernail out, tearing all the soft tissue that lay in its path open, and Szayel Aporro had screamed in earnest, a long pained wail echoing through the corridors of Las Noches. The Espada slipped to the floor, barely aware of himself and bleeding profusely.

Specimen status: Alive. Conscious.

The complete label had flickered across the bottom of the container, and Mayuri had left the room.

'You were not meant to survive,' Szayel had whispered to Nemu, as the woman began reinserting the probes, after laying him back on the stretcher. Keeping her head bowed, the lieutenant of the 12th division had clamped the Arrancar's frail wrists and ankles securely to the table, before the hydraulic pumps hidden in the legs tilted the stretcher to an upright position. The metallic arms that supported the large glass recipient whizzed slowly, placing the container directly above. 'Nothing is meant to survive Gabriel.'

Nemu had finally lifted her chin to meet his gaze, letting the Espada know that she had accepted the delayed, awkward apology for the suffering he had inflicted.

'_He_ makes sure I survive everything,' Nemu said, blankly, as the glass container descended slowly. 'He will make sure you survive everything, too.'

Then, Szayel Aporro truly remembered. Truly understood.

Nemu thought she saw him smile but did not have the curiosity to reassure herself that it had been so. The recipient had rotated in place, a single dry click announcing that it was hermetically sealed and ready to be voided.

* * *

Up next - Sex and laughter, the meaning of life. Other than 42, of course. Ishida meets Lilinette, and is left greatly enhanced by the experience. Quite clearly, he does not get kicked in the tender bits.


	7. D cup

Have you survived the pointlessly brutal sex scenes? Good. There actually are a few plot advancing paragraphs in there...Easy to miss though.

No warnings for this one. It's actually...kind of sweet.

Chapter 7 - where Ishida meets Lilinette & Her Espada. Yes, HER Espada.

* * *

'Over here.'

Ishida looked up, unsure whether he had actually heard the voice; for a moment, he had hoped it was Nel, and that Kurosaki Ichigo would come bursting through a wall, screaming, spitting and scratching his head. Yet, the words had been too clearly, too intently pronounced to come from the baby Arrancar.

'He, he, cute human. I'm confusing ya!' the voice chimed again, followed by clear, childish laughter, and though it had come from further away than it had the previous time, Ishida had darted to his feet.

Then, he had staggered and winced. His injuries were still not fully healed – a little irony on behalf of Kurosutchi, who probably intended to keep the Quincy as far from the battle as possible. Ishida had intended to ask Nemu for some medication, but the sight of whatever was left of Szayel Aporro Granz had been so disturbing, that he'd completely forgotten.

'Aw, you have a boo-boo.' The child said regretfully, from afar. 'Maybe I could fix it for ya.' A whisper, in his ear.

Instinctively, as if an insect had been crawling though his hair, Ishida had furiously swatted his hand against his cheek.

'Who…what are you?' he asked, narrowing his eyes and hoping to make something out in the complete, frozen darkness that almost physically filled the corridor. He thought he did - no more than a sleek arrow of light dashing across the darkness.

'I'm me. Who else would I be?'

This time, the voice had come from behind, from within the wall itself, making Ishida stand straight and take a giant step forward.

'But if I wasn't me, I'd wanna be someone with big boobies.' The thing had sincerely said, the sound trailing off into the distance. 'Come on.'

Ishida cast an uncertain glance behind him, wondering if he should have called for Renji; whatever this new trick was, he was unsure that he could face it alone. But then, the Quincy had reminded himself, Renji was not in a better state. In fact, he was worse off, and he had not received any attention…

He was smacked over the head – sharply, painfully and without recourse; he had not even felt the enemy approaching, he had not felt them moving away. He had just felt the slap, which could as well have been a stab, or a Cero, and a faint air current as the Arrancar moved past him, almost through him.

'If I wanted to kill ya, you'd be dead,' the voice had echoed from everywhere around, not threatening, but amused. ' 'Cuz you're slow, human. Like, really, slow.' The whisper had resonated in his ear, inside of his skull before trailing away again. 'Come on.'

Almost in spite of himself, Ishida had taken a tentative step forward.

'Where are you?' he asked the darkness. The thin sprout of white had appeared at the end of the corridor, flickering mockingly in what the Quincy imagined were small Sonido steps. Questioning his sanity, Ishida started towards the beckoning Arrancar; he reached the end of the corridor, but he did not catch a better glimpse of the creature. He turned a corner, only to see it disappearing around another.

'Where are you taking me?' he asked, resentfully. 'I will not go far…'

'Pfah, another lazy one. I think it's just boys that are ikky sloths. If I wasn't me, I wouldn't wanna be a boy. Ya moving?'

It disappeared around yet another corner of the dark maze, and Ishida followed; at each turn, he promised himself that this one would be the last, yet he continued to break the promise for long, bone chilling minutes.

'What do you want?' Ishida inquired, squeezing the trigger of his glove so hard that the delicate jewel almost drew blood.

'Candy and a guinea pig.' The darkness laughed back. 'I gots me a lizard, but he's not cuddly at all.'

Another like Nel? Ishida quietly wondered. The voice seemed to belong to a child no older than twelve, an older girl, perhaps – not a toddler, but definitely not an adult. It was so young, so innocent…why would an innocent be in this place of punishment and despair? The Quincy thought, clenching his teeth.

'What do you want _from me?_' he reiterated, patiently.

'Wanna chat,' the voice answered, for the first time dry and serious. 'Almost there. Or not. Bleah.' The white silhouette hissed past him, allowing him to see its blurred movement, but not make out any of its features. 'I took a wrong turn,' the voice excused itself, in earnest annoyance. 'Need to go back a bit.'

Sighing, Ishida turned around, starting to retrace his steps. The Arrancar was moving slower, visibly hesitating at each corner, and twice he saw it changing its mind as to the direction. For a while, he had concentrated on remembering whether he'd gone right or left, but the Arrancar truly seemed to be going back the same way, so Ishida allowed himself to slip into his thoughts, content on simply following the flicker, wherever it appeared. He figured they had just gone back half way to where they'd started from. Then, out of nowhere, he'd banged his forehead against something solid, which had promptly knocked him back to his senses.

A single, large and rounded pink eye stared at him in obvious amusement. Faded, blonde tresses hung graciously down across a pale, pretty cheek – and it had taken Ishida a few long seconds to realize that he had just hit his head against the remains of the Hollow's mask. It had taken him a further few seconds to realize that the Arrancar was_ standing _on the ceiling, hanging upside down, so that its eyes could be at the same height as his.

'We're here,' it said, obviously pleased by the fact that Ishida had yelped and instinctively jumped a step backwards, in complete confusion. The Arrancar had savored the look on his face for a little bit longer, before disappearing again, only to reappear in the same split second, this time standing normally, on the floor.

It was a child, Ishida saw, frowning, a blonde and very pretty pubescent female child. Or something in a child shape, sporting an outfit that instantly made the Quincy blush in embarrassment; she was barely shoulder high to him, and the remainder of her mask, which covered her left eye and part of her left cheek, reminded Ishida of something a circus acrobat might have worn. Still, disturbingly, its human body was fully formed, testifying beyond doubt that he had been standing before a Vasto Lorde.

'I'm Arrancar 17. Lilinette,' the Arrancar offered, with a wink. She placed a hand on her tiny hip. 'Nice to meet ya, nameless human with glasses.'

'Ishida…Ishida Uryu,' the Quincy stuttered in return, forcing himself to look around. They had arrived at a larger intersection that they had, indeed, passed before. Four corridors met, forming a small, square hall. 'Where are we?' he asked, moving an inch back from the Arrancar.

'Las Noches,' she shrugged, obviously ignoring the true meaning of his question. 'The capital of Hueco Mundo, where Aizen-sama lives. And where I live. Sorta.' Lilinette added, quickly dispensing with the obvious. 'Ya look funny.' The Arrancar continued, frowning childishly. 'Never saw anyone without a hole.'

Despite the fact that his attention was still consumed by the awkward creature that stood before him, Ishida frowned, feeling the other reiatsu. He'd cringed, moving another step back – the presence had not crept up on him, but simply appeared, as if the darkness around them had suddenly gained solid strength and had sunk a myriad cold fangs into his flesh; it was only then that, in contrast, he had finally felt the girl's reiatsu as well – a small but resolute and palpable cloud of warmth in the suddenly frozen room.

'He's not here yet,' Lilinette matter-of-factly stated. 'Good thing we were late so we didn't notice he was late. He's always late,' she smirked.

'Who…'

The Quincy's voice faded, as he cursed at his own stupidity; he'd been lured into an ambush, he knew it now – quick as lightning, his mind attempted to locate the source of the newly appeared reiatsu, so that he could retreat in the other direction. He knew which corridor they had come from, he'd memorized it, but he could not tell whether retreating down the same path would have carried him away from whatever was awaiting. The reiatsu came from everywhere, as present, strong and unavoidable as air.

'You're not the one who wants to speak with me,' Ishida said, feeling that beads of sweat had begun forming on his brow, and hoping to prompt the other into the open.

'I am, I am. I do wanna talk to ya. I talk to everyone. When he's in a…conversational…conversationally? Anyways, a good mood, I even talk to Grimmjow and he teaches me swear words which are cool and, new in…inno…innve…'

'Innovative,' the Quincy breathed, despite himself.

'Na, that's not it.' Lilinette refuted. 'Ah!' she chided, suddenly remembering. 'He teaches me…_invectives_!' she uttered, in triumph. 'Not swear words, invectives…gotta keep smart!'

'Are you a fracction?' Ishida asked, softly. He'd looked at her for long enough to see she did not bear an Espada sign – the little clothes she wore would not have been able to hide it.

'Yup!' the girl answered, nodding enthusiastically.

'And your Espada…'the Quincy began, feeling the approach of the other reiatsu rendered the air thick to the point where each breath was a struggle.

'My Espada!' Lilinette exclaimed, happily. 'Cool way of saying it! My Espada is here.'

Oh, indeed he was, Ishida thought, his fingers itching on the trigger of his bow, which, the Quincy suddenly felt assured, would not serve him better than it had against Szayel Aporro. In frightening contrast to the tension that the human felt, Lilinette joyfully skipped up and down twice, before composing herself into a very serious position akin to a military attention stand. Her little silhouette blocked the view of the approaching one, white silk standing out clearly against the overwhelming darkness.

'Without further a due, Ishida Uryu,' she began, in the tone of a show announcer, 'I present to you _my_ Espada, the one, the only, the most chilled, the sleepiest and the tallest, erm…now, the tallest, and certainly the most bearded, Segunda Espada…'

Second. The word flashed through the Quincy's mind like a sword, like the sound of his own death.

'…Stark!'

Lilinette took a step aside, extending her little arm in a theatrical gesture, and allowing him to see the man who'd come to stand behind her, in a far less than theatrical manner. 'He thinks you wanna kill him,' she whispered to him, and the man shrugged indifferently.

'I didn't shave,' the Espada whispered in return. 'I always look like I want to kill people when I don't shave.'

Ishida's arrow melted in mid air, dissipating into a cloud of blue spirit particles; the Espada had barely even looked its way – and, if any proof of the fact that the arrow had not even been a nuisance was further required, he'd yawned.

'Please,' Stark said, 'it's too early for this.'

'It's three in the afternoon,' Lilinette muttered in disgust.

'Too early, I say!' the Espada grunted. 'I cannot fight before five, upsets my stomach. Besides,' he'd added, coming closer to the frozen Quincy, 'he doesn't look like he wants a fight either. Especially not with me, since, I am, after all, the tallest.'

* * *

Up next - Stark wants to save the world. Sadly, the world includes Szayel. Heh, you can't win them all!


	8. Hollow

Ok, I lied a little but it was a honestly well intentioned lie. I tend to write in a very wordy manner, so my scenes are long. I intended to break this one up, but...I felt something would be lost.

Warnings - some strong language. Unsure of the Hollow hole interpretation - but, hey Nnoitra gets to have it in his skull. I can play a little.

Chapter 8 - Where Stark declares Lilinette's intention of saving the day, for his own reasons. He is, after all, HER Espada.

* * *

The Espada was…Well, the Espada was nothing like Ishida had expected, given the enormous pressure of the creature's reiatsu. The human body of the Vasto Lorde was that of a man in his early thirties, tall, slim, and slightly crooked, shoulders habitually leaning forward like those of a teenager embarrassed of his height. Wavy, long, dark hair framed his sharp features, and as he took another closer to the Quincy, Stark scratched his little goatee. All around them, the entrances to the corridors had vanished, leaving the three in a completely closed cube – Ishida had not even noticed the fact until he had intently retreated so far that his back had leaned against the cool stone. There was nowhere to run, the Quincy thought, again cursing his stupidity.

'Yammy is still taller,' the Espada had said, his voice betraying as much reluctance for whatever lay ahead as Ishida felt.

'Yammy's a freak,' Lilinette mercilessly returned. 'Now, talk to the cute human. Can't keep the room sealed forever, ya know.'

Ishida frowned, his bow cutting a sharp pattern in the darkness of the corridor, ready to fire again. Still, his hand shook slightly, as the Espada shot a resigned glance over his shoulder at the blonde little girl. Hands in his pockets and eyes half closed, the Segunda tilted his head to look at Ishida, clearly curious and not aggressive.

'You fought Szayel Aporro,' Stark said, for the first time addressing Ishida and looking at him with half open, steel blue eyes.

'How do you know?' the Quincy asked, in return, his bow arm suddenly feeling unexplainable downwards pressure.

'You have that look about you…Like you don't know whether to be impressed or disgusted,' Stark honestly shrugged. 'Don't worry,' the Espada continued, with a little smirk, 'he has that effect on everyone.'

Amazed at how accurate the description of his feelings had been, Ishida had remained quiet.

'So,' Stark conversationally continued, 'who won?'

'What…'

The Arrancar arched an eyebrow. 'You are still alive, human. So is he. But someone won and someone lost. That's the way it usually goes.'

'Your bow annoys me,' he snarled; in a second, Ishida's bow was gone, erased by a single gesture of the Arrancar's fingers, which left the Quincy's arm pointlessly outstretched in the dark. 'Bright lights in the early morning, you know.'

'…fucking three in the afternoon…'Lilinette muttered in the background.

'Early!' Stark growled in return. 'According to my internal clock this is bloody midnight. Anyway! I take it, you achieved some sort of victory, human. In my turn, I don't know whether to be impressed or disgusted.'

'Impressed,' the fracction prompted.

'Alright,' Stark sighed, sounding thoroughly unconvinced, 'I am impressed.'

He slowly walked around the Quincy, measuring him from head to toe; Ishida found it impossible to move, his arm still extended before him as he called and recalled the bow - the Espada's reiatsu clogged around him, trapping him as if he had been a fly in jar of honey. Sealing the room, the Quincy had dumbly thought, was not necessary. He could not have run even if there had been paths of retreat.

'You are not a Shinigami,' the Arrancar said, softly. 'Is that why you picked him, Lilinette?' he shot over his shoulder, and the girl answered with a happy, fast nod.

'Well that, and the fact that the other is really busted,' she added, after a second of consideration. 'This one could walk.'

Shaking his head in disapproval of the girl's selection criteria, Stark stopped pacing around Ishida.

'I am a Quincy,' Ishida put in, not knowing what else to say but wishing to end the silence. The Arrancar's narrow and slanted blue eyes swept over him, making his feel as if his blood had been freezing in his veins, slowly becoming as solid as the darkness around them.

'Quincy!' The Espada perked. 'Explains the bow obsession. You must have made Szayel Aporro's day.'

'And made him make the crazy face,' Lilinette put in from behind. 'Or skip around yelling 'Suerte!' Or at least made him want to skip around yelling 'Suerte!'' Her enthusiasm failed to rub off on either of the two men, and the girl frowned.

She approached, putting her arm around the Espada's waist, and looking up at him with genuine kindness. 'Talk to him, Stark. We're gonna be found soon.' The mixture of the presences was stunning, Ishida thought, finally lowering his useless bow arm – so much darkness, yet so much light, each making the other more poignant, not master and subordinate, but two balanced parts of a whole. Lilinette no longer looked like a child; though her physical aspect had not changed, the look on her features, the steady intent in her one visible eye, and most of all, her suddenly strengthened reiatsu finally made the Quincy come to terms that this creature, just like the other, was impossibly old, probably dead and a Hollow when Ishida's grandfather was still a boy.

'Don't know what to say, or how to say it.' Stark shrugged, shooting an almost apologetic side glance at Ishida before lowering his gaze to meet Lilinette's. 'How about we do as usual, you talk and I stand in the background grunting for added emphasis and authority?'

'You don't have any authority,' the child smirked. 'Speak,' she prompted, delivering a swift, and assuredly painful kick to the Espada's right shin.

'Women,' Stark sighed, addressing Ishida. 'They start busting one's balls when they are young and then it just gets worse and worse when they grow up…'

'I'll never grow up,' Lilinette whispered, her arm clenching tighter around her master's waist, and the Quincy's heart clenched as well, at the sudden, heart rending pain that her tone had carried.

'Not if you don't want to,' the Espada had whispered in return, his hand slowly caressing the child's blonde tresses. He'd tilted his head to the side, and finally sighed in submission at Lilinette's pleading glance.

'Listen, Quincy. You fought Szayel Aporro, but you did not defeat him. You could not have, you're definitely too weak.'

The pronouncement had not been a provocation, still, Ishida frowned in dismay.

'His cowardly tricks…'the Quincy began, in a low, furious snarl.

'Yes, I am sure he pulled a lot of them,' Stark nodded, 'Szayel Aporro likes to play with his food. He must have been a terribly annoying kid, grown up into an obnoxious adult, and died to make an excruciatingly annoying and obnoxious Hollow.'

'That is no reason to slowly torture him to death, however.'

Ishida had gasped as he'd met the Espada's glance – the man's blue eyes were suddenly piercing and awake; his reiatsu had screamed with a million voices, all sharp and deafening, all furious and revolted.

'There is nothing that is being done to Szayel Aporro Granz that he would not have done himself.' Ishida snarled, finding that the words sounded as artificial when he uttered them as they had sounded when they'd been spoken by Nemu Kurosutchi.

'Not an excuse,' Stark dryly replied, shoving his hands in his pockets and striding forward. 'Never an excuse,' he repeated, in disgust; behind him, Lilinette nodded sternly.

'And you are here to avenge him?' The Quincy asked, his fingers darting towards the cool and reassuring hilt of the Seele Schneider. For however strong the Segunda might have been, a stab to the chest…

'Nah,' the Espada shrugged, suddenly drawing back, as if he had read the Quincy's mind. 'Listen, kid who likes to confuse his powers with his identity, and does not introduce himself by name, but rather by type…'

'His name is Uryu,' Lilinette said, softly.

'Uryu,' Stark echoed. 'Your little weapon can do nothing against me; I could break it, to prove my point, but I am in a non-confrontational mood. And I am not here to avenge Szayel Aporro; there is nothing to avenge. You did not defeat him, he is not dead, and you are not the one torturing him.'

'Then what the hell do you want?' the Quincy blurted. 'What is this little dance?'

'See, Lilinette, told you this was going to confuse him out of his mind,' the Espada suddenly chuckled.

'That's because you're taking in doodles, idiot.' The girl replied, crossing her arms over her tiny breasts and tapping her foot impatiently. 'We are not here to avenge Szayel Aporro, we're here to rescue him.'

Ishida's eyes widened in surprise, his hand falling limply to the side.

'Rescue him?' he stuttered. 'Aizen sent you…to save…him?'

'Aizen did not send me to do anything,' Stark snapped, with odd fury. 'I ran a cowardly little errand for him before, as I am sure you will soon find out, but he does not give a flying fuck about Szayel Aporro. In fact, my being here would not make Aizen-sama happy in the least.'

The Segunda had spoken the name of the ex-Shinigami as if he had spit.

'Why do you think Lilinette sealed the room?' Stark inquired, his voice returning to its normal, sleepy purr. 'To keep you from running? Where would you run to? This is the center of Hell.'

'I sealed the room so no one could listen to us chatting,' the little girl said. 'Aizen-sama ordered us to stay put…'

'…and you are disobeying him,' Ishida whispered.

'Yeah,' Stark chuckled, scratching his head and looking pleased. 'It is sort of fun, actually. We should do it more often,' he added, obviously addressing Lilinette, and making her giggle in response. 'Uryu.'

Ishida looked up to meet the Espada's thoughtful blue stare.

'It is not in the habit of a Quincy to kill in a lingering way.'

'What can you possibly know about the Quincy ways?' Ishida shot back.

'Killed enough of your kind. Ate a lot of them too. Crunchy,' the Arrancar yawned, running his gloved index over the jagged fangs of the Hollow jaw that hung below his human chin.

'Not funny,' Lilinette scolded, noticing Ishida's furious scowl. Stark shrugged defensively.

'Ask a stupid pointless question, get a stupid pointless answer,' he replied. 'The Quincy Code does not condone torture,' Stark reiterated, softly. 'Nor does it condone associating with Shinigami, as far as I know, but…'

He shrugged.

'You are working with them nonetheless. And the Shinigami you are associating with seem to be of a particularly nasty sort, too. The sort that likes to play with its food. Are you partial to that type of behaviour, Quincy? Because if you are, I will kill you, consume your reiatsu, find it crunchy and move on.' The Segunda leaned in, searchingly looking into Ishida's eyes. 'But I don't think you do like it.' He continued, softly. 'And Lilinette hopes that you will help us put a stop to it – I would kindly ask you not to disappoint Lilinette. That would make me consume your reiatsu before I kill you.'

'I would have killed him if I had defeated him,' Ishida said, simply, finding that he was not in the least frightened. He did, indeed deeply resent Kurosutchi's actions, and found it strangely comforting that the Arrancar did as well.

Stark approved with a nod, retreating a few yards.

'But I cannot and will not fight at your side just because of that,' the Quincy continued. 'Szayel Aporro deserves what is coming to him; he happened to run into the Shinigami version of himself. And while I do not take pleasure in the thought of torture, I believe there is justice in what he is suffering now…'

'Would you listen to him, Lilinette,' the Espada chuckled, 'he sounds as much like a broken record as Tousen does. Careful, there, Uryu. You are beginning to become contaminated by the Shinigami illusion that justice is yours to dispense and balance is yours to preserve.'

And, of all the things the Arrancar had said, this final statement hurt Ishida the most – he clenched his fists and looked to the side.

'I do not want you to fight,' the Espada continued. 'I do not need you to, kid, I can see that Szayel Aporro wiped the floor with you, and, if my sense of smell is not wrong, he even munched on your reiatsu. What I need from you is that you tell me where the wretched bastard is. Whoever is keeping him is doing a damn good job of masking his energy, and since I should be under house arrest, by Aizen's orders, I cannot roam about Las Noches like a bat, looking for him.'

'You are asking me to betray my friends,' Ishida muttered.

'No, I am asking you to uphold your Code and your sense of honor, and help me end the cruel and unusual punishment of an idiot who hasn't really done anything to you, or any of your friends.' Stark answered. 'I promise I will do my best not to harm any of your Shinigami…I find their reiatsu is too runny for my taste, anyway.'

'Why do you want to save him?' the young man asked, not of the Espada, but of his fracction. Uncharacteristically, Lilinette remained silent and searchingly gazed at Stark.

'Well,' the Espada mused, 'now that Uryu here has guessed which one of us is the brain of operation 'Save Szayel Now, Regret It Forever After', you might as well answer.'

'Because he did a good thing,' Lilinette responded, frowning. 'He did a good thing, once, for a friend of ours, which sort of makes him our friend.'

'He eats his fracctiones!' Ishida blurted incredulously. 'You should…'

'He only ever eats Lumina,' Lilinette shrugged. 'She tastes like pudding, apparently.'

'Truth be told, Verona smells like vinegar chips.' Stark added. 'Bleah!' the Espada and his Fracction exclaimed in a single voice.

'Regardless,' Ishida said, resolutely shaking his head, 'though I do not approve of his torture, I would see him killed, not rescued and returned to the battle. The strength in your numbers…'

Stark laughed; not chuckled, but laughed out loud. In contrast to the clear, warm sound, his reiatsu clenched dangerously and painfully around the Quincy. 'Strength…' the Espada said, as if Ishida had just uttered the best joke in the universe, '…in our numbers! Do you genuinely think there is _strength_ among the Espada?'

Behind him, Lilinette winced, and took a tentative step forward. For the first time she looked afraid, her pink gaze darting around the room in fright.

'Don't say that, Stark, don't…_He_ will hear it…This, he will hear...' she pleaded, grabbing the Espada's hand.

'Like I give a fuck,' the man responded, barely drawing breath between chuckles. He shook his head, the long, dark locks whipping furiously at his cheekbones. 'Like I genuinely give a fuck whether I die by Aizen's hand or at his command, Lilinette, really!'

The Quincy's eyes widened in shock, but he did not get the chance to speak. The Segunda's spirit energy came about him like iron, clasping his throat and crushing his windpipe, as Stark straightened and stopped laughing. With one single step, he crossed twenty yards and came within an inch of Ishida, his features twisted in a scowl that made his human jaw look exactly like the sharp remnants of the Hollow mask, and, when Stark leaned dangerously close over the young man, Ishida could actually see the contours of the Hollow mask rising from the human cheeks, shaped in dark particle matter. A monster, the Quincy thought, gasping for air, an abyss of jagged fangs and burning unleashed fury.

'Do you think I genuinely care which sort of Shinigami sword kills _her_ when the time comes? Will the one who does it be less guilty than the one who puts _her_ in harm's way on a whim?' the abyss had screamed, inside Ishida's mind. 'Do you think I care what kind of enemy I cannot protect _her_ from?'

'Let me clarify something for you. There is no strength among the Espada, Quincy – we are all alone, all of us prey and easy pickings. If not to the Shinigami in black, then to those wearing white.' the Hollow had hissed, out loud. 'I don't know what you are imagining, but let me assure you that Aizen is purposefully sending us to die, one by one, against you and your kind, to buy him time for whatever the fuck he and his Shinigami cronies intend to do. Aaroniero was told Kuchiki Rukia was the weakest among you; LeRoux was told that he would only ascertain Aaroniero's death...Do you think that Szayel Aporro acted out of turn, when he attacked your companion? Szayel Aporro, who does not even piss unless Aizen tells him to? Those of us who were lucky enough not to receive _private_ orders that led to their tragic and untimely demise can still oppose the Gotei 13, but we cannot stand against them forever – there is no winning here, not for us. Only for Aizen…and while he has sufficient strength to wipe the Gotei from existence, he won't lift a finger to save any of us.'

'Because, in the end, we are only Hollow, and _God_ is a Shinigami.'

He'd finally allowed Ishida to draw breath again, and the young man had breathed in deeply, almost sensing the Hollow's reiatsu on his tongue and in his nostrils.

'Szayel Aporro was defeated,' Stark growled. 'He will not return to the battle against you – to Aizen he is already dead. And because he is already dead to Aizen, he won't be called to the suicide mission against the Gotei…He is out of the way of this war, and I want to take as many of my own out of the way of this war as I possibly can. Each and every one that I can, even those that I personally hate.'

'Because, Uryu, I have not forgotten who my enemies are,' the Espada had added. 'I have not forgotten who_ judged me _and put me in this hell, who put all of us in this hell. I was not lucky enough to run against a Quincy, who would have ended everything before I turned into what I am now. It was a Shinigami, and I hate them all, regardless of the color of their uniform.'

Lilinette's little hand ran down the Espada's arm, and the tremendous pressure of his reiatsu finally receded, as the young girl's fingers slowly entwined to his. She gave Stark's hand a short squeeze, before stepping between him and Ishida and looking up at the Quincy with her unbearably innocent pink eye.

'Szayel Aporro also took someone out of the way of this war,' Lilinette said, softly. 'He also pretended someone was dead, when they were not, so that they would not get killed for real. He's not a nice man, but he did a nice thing. Please, Quincy Ishida Uryu. Let us help our friend who is in trouble. That's what you are here for, too.'

Ishida looked at Stark for long, painful seconds, before glancing down at the child Arrancar and feeling his heart twist.

_I understand, _Ishida thought. _I understand all too well, Segunda Espada. If I will let you save him, you will gain hope that another will allow you to save her, too. _

'He's being kept in his laboratory,' he whispered in defeat.

Stark nodded, and turned on his heels.

'Wait, Espada…' Ishida whispered, not knowing why. 'There is a captain of the Gotei with him, the captain of the 12th division…'

'Ha!' Lilinette suddenly exclaimed. 'Stark can crush him with a flick of his hand! Gran Rey Cero, pow! Though, of course, he won't. Cuz he promised not to…'she added, wisely.

'That's not the point,' Ishida answered, shaking his head. 'I don't care what you do to Kurosutchi Mayuri. But his vice-captain, Nemu…'

'I understand,' Stark nodded, with a little grin. 'I'll be a good boy – not in my nature to upset the ladies, anyway. Thank you, Uryu. Let us hope we shall not meet again.'

The Espada left, walking straight though the wall of the chamber; the stone that had sealed the entrances also dissipated, but Lilinette lingered behind, shifting her wheight from one foot to the other.

'Do you know what the hole of a Hollow is?' she asked.

'Yes,' Ishida answered. 'It's where their chain was attached. The thing that killed them.'

'Yup,' Lilinette nodded. She pointed at the small, round hole in her stomach. 'I died of something, here. And I died angry, because it was too early and because people could have saved me, but didn't. So I stayed behind, and took revenge on them. Of course, I didn't know exactly who it was that let me die, so I took revenge on _all_ of them.'

_And then you were judged and sent here_, Ishida thought, clenching his jaws to repress the pain in his chest. _Shinigami…_

'Except when the hole is here.' she smiled, softly tilting her head to the side, and placing her little hand over the center of her chest, to indicate where Stark's hole was. 'Do you know what it means when the hole is here?'

'No,' Ishida whispered. 'No, I don't.'

'Of all the Espada, only Stark and Ulquiorra have it like this,' Lilinette answered. 'When you have it here, it means you died of a broken heart.'

'I understand,' the Quincy nodded.

'I hope you do.'

The voice had echoed in his thoughts long after she was gone.

* * *

Up next - NOW Szayel recovers his wit. I think he has suffered enough. No, really...


	9. Down with the ASCII

_American Standard Code for Information Interchange (ASCII),__ is a __character encoding__ based on the __English alphabet__. ASCII codes represent __text__ in __computers__, __communications__ equipment, and other devices that work with text. Most modern __character encodings__ — which support many more characters than did the original — have a historical basis in ASCII._

All nice and good, but is it sufficient for Szayel's machinery?

Warnings - some language, lots of fantasy technology, plot, plot and more plot. Quite long, but there was no way of breaking this up and preserving the pace.

Chapter 9 - Where Szayel Aporro turns into a nice, helpless kitten. How odd is that?

* * *

Trying to get away from the painfully awake stare of the Arrancar, Nemu had yet again willed herself upon the keys of the control panel. The long lines of code had been sliding over the screen for hours, with no result…to no avail. For however much she had tried, none of her skill had been able to grant her access to more data than had been initially open.

The Garganta were not yet closed, but Nemu Kurosutchi was still cut off from the knowledge of the 12th Division; until Mayuri-sama found some way of reestablishing contact, the vice-captain was alone against the seemingly unbreakable protection system of Szayel Aporro's laboratory. And she was almost ready to give up. Blinking had become painful and stinging, and each time she closed her eyes, for no matter how short, she had to force her eyelids open as if they had been solid steel shutters.

And there it was again. _The knock._

Nemu clenched her jaws, attempting to ignore it. It certainly was faint enough to be ignored, nothing more than a little clink, a slow one. But, Gods, he was patient. He must have been, to devise his devilish protection system, and he was not even knocking in despair. He did so at long, perfectly, maddeningly equal interval…was he counting the seconds? Nemu wondered, clenching her teeth.

'How the hell did you encrypt this?' she muttered, her shoulders tense as if they had been caught in a wrench. She imagined the Arrancar shrug behind her, and scowled furiously – she actually saw his eyes in her imagination. Just like Mayuri-sama's eyes, windows to a mind that was not attached to a body, not attached to a heart, a mind standing alone. And, regardless of what the body suffered, the mind was amused at her efforts.

Knock, knock, sharp clink of metal against glass.

And this time, in spite of the fact that she knew better, Nemu gave up, and turned her chair around.

'What do you want?' she snapped, finding that she enjoyed the fact that she was angry just as much as she enjoyed any random surge of emotion that made her feel as if she had been alive and real, not an embodied figment of someone else's imagination.

The Arrancar in the container raised an eyebrow, and again knocked the cuff on his wrist on the glass cylinder. Then, he raised his right index, and imitated the motion of pressing a button. Nemu frowned. He sighed, in obvious disappointment. Slowly, he'd manipulated the tiny degree of freedom his hand had to point at his ear; he had then shaken his head – 'No', and yet again repeated the motion of pressing a button.

This time, she had understood it, but willingly chose to ignore it. She turned away, yet again facing the screen and concentrating on her code. There probably was a button that would have allowed her to hear him – it made obvious sense, Nemu thought, clenching her teeth. His entire laboratory was a torture chamber – there would have been no point in keeping prisoners alive, if one could not get them to answer questions.

For a while, he stopped knocking, and though she welcomed the relief at first, Nemu soon found that the absence of the sound was even more irritating than the sound itself. Because now, she did not hear it, but she imagined hearing it, she thought about it and expected it – and it kept her mind well away from the lines on the screen. But then, Nemu realized, with a deep, pained sigh, there was nothing she could have done to focus, much like, she was assured, there was nothing she could have done to access the data that was stashed inside the Arrancar's system.

She would have to disappoint Mayuri-sama. And he did not take well to disappointment.

Slowly, she turned her chair around again; inside his sealed cell, the Arrancar grinned and shrugged – it had probably taken her less time to give in than he had expected.

'Alright,' Nemu sighed. 'Where is it?'

Szayel Aporro shook his left wrist, then pointed downwards. In response, the young woman slipped her hand on the left side of the control panel, soon finding the hidden button.

'You're faster than I expected,' he sighed, his voice slightly echoing inside the container, but coming out neatly and evenly from all around her. 'It would have taken another person weeks to get to where you are. Is that you, or is that him?'

With a dry click, Nemu shut the sound off, and turned her chair around hastily. It was another half hour before she paid any more heed to his faint attempts at drawing her attention.

'Ready to behave?' she asked in a flat voice. The Arrancar nodded, with an equally expressionless face, and Nemu once again pressed the button. This time, he wisely remained silent, waiting for her to speak first.

'Is there an additional symbol?' she asked, without introduction.

'Mmmm?' the Espada purred, visibly pleased.

'To your encoding.' Nemu answered. 'I have used up almost all combinations of your keys. Unless I have been very unlucky or very slow, I should have found your code by now…'

'Very good,' Szayel nodded. 'Four,' he added, dryly. 'There are four additional symbols, and none of them are on the keypad. Not literally at least, since they are not keys. Not everything that's hidden is down, Nemu-chan,' he scolded, almost kindly, as the girl bent to the side to see if there were more buttons next to the one that had allowed him to speak. 'That's not a symbol, that's a mechanical switch. All but a few of the buttons on the panel are mechanical switches. Limp ones. Their combinations will not give you anything of value, and you have included quite a few pointless ones in your search.'

'Which ones?' Nemu inquired, frowning.

'I would not know from up here. I would need to be a little bit closer.' The Shinigami's habitually expressionless features actually appeared amused for a split second, and Szayel Aporro sighed. 'A tad transparent, hm?' he conceded.

She simply blinked in response.

'Well then, Nemu-chan,' he continued. 'Let me give you some pointers. Everything in this laboratory is designed ergonomically – I do not like standing away from my panels if I do not need to. So, everything that you need is within an arm's reach from you.'

The young woman straightened her back and closed her eyes.

'I am being very honest,' Szayel muttered, taking her gesture for refusal. To his surprise, Nemu nodded softly.

'I assume so,' she answered, breathing deeply. 'Just like Mayuri-sama, you feel much brighter when you make others understand how bright you are. The arrogance can only work against you, but if you realized that, you would not be sufficiently arrogant, Szayel Aporro Granz.'

'I know your keypad, by now,' she continued, not giving him time to respond. 'Or at least I think I do, which is even more dangerous. I am not looking at the keypad, I am looking at my image of the keypad, so to find whatever hidden symbols there are, I need to erase that image from my mind.'

'Now I would applaud, was I not so pitifully restrained.' Szayel answered.

'That is a bit transparent as well,' the Shinigami returned, no trace of amusement in her voice. Yet, she was amused, just as he had intended, and he could feel it.

Keeping her eyes closed, Nemu ran her fingers over the panel before her – it did not take her long to discover what she had missed. To her right side, almost hidden under the edge of the screen, were four tiny round holes, each the right shape and size to fit a small vial. All of them, of course, empty.

She frowned.

'You say the keyboard is limp,' Nemu echoed softly. 'Not useless, but limp – which means that by adding whatever is supposed to go in these slots, I could make it useful.'

'Just so. You really are quite bright,' the Arrancar nodded, in genuine surprise. 'You also actually _listen_ when others speak. I think you may be the first Shinigami I've seen to display this wondrous quality. Do I get a cookie in exchange for my honesty?'

'Are you trying to negotiate with me?' the young woman asked, turning around. And this time, he thought, with a tiny hint of triumph, she was even cracking an odd smile. The expression on her features looked painfully artificial, as if she had not really linked the movement of the muscles on her face with the feeling of amusement. Akin to the voice of a deaf person, Szayel had eerily thought.

'I hope I am,' he answered, slightly tilting his head to the side.

'And what do you hope to achieve?' Nemu shrugged. 'I will not release you by either letting you out or killing you…'

'I know,' the Espada sighed. 'Perhaps I might tempt you to, but you are conditioned to obey your maker. He is the one with the power, not you. You, however, are the one who can make the expression of his power as painful or as little painful as you choose. You have already shown me that.' Szayel concluded, extending his torn left arm as much as the handcuffs allowed him, to illustrate the point.

'So you are not negotiating for your life anymore?'

'Just for a degree of comfort,' he answered. 'Besides,' he added at the end of a few seconds of silence, 'I think you deserved a breakthrough after all your hard work on my codes, and to be thoroughly honest, I am bored.'

'Good. Then being allowed to speak should be reward enough.' Nemu said blankly. 'That, and the brief mental gratification at my amazement when I do discover your codes will probably be as much as you get, so, if I were you, I would make the game last a bit longer.'

'That is not much of a negotiation,' Szayel purred.

'You are the one negotiating, not I.'

'A pity,' the Arrancar responded. 'The theory of reciprocation is wrong, I see…'

Another gleam of emotion; fury this time, he noted with satisfaction. And she had not even tried to disguise the fact that she knew exactly what he was speaking of.

'Mayuri-sama made this body,' she said. 'He is entitled to it in whichever way he chooses.'

'I would full-heartedly agree to that statement,' the Arrancar answered. 'I make thorough use of the things that I create myself. But then, it is not the way in which he chooses to employ your gigai that bothers you, Nemu-chan, it is the pointless humiliation he likes to subject you to. And in front of an enemy, no less. But, never mind. I will earn my cookies.'

'As you have already guessed, the four vials that fit in those slots make the keyboard useable and enable the passcode,' he continued, not giving her time to respond. 'However, here lies the particularly intelligent – if I dare say so – part. The vials are not a switch. They are components of the code in another way. Without them, the panel operates like any human computer, on the alternate presence and absence of an electrical signal.'

'Binary,' Nemu nodded.

'With them, the processor operates with the presence and absence of not one type of input, but rather five, the basic electric one, and the four others…'

'Reiatsu,' the girl breathed. 'The vials contain reiatsu.'

The Arrancar laughed.

'Indeed. Just another form of energy. Do I deserve a cookie _now_?'

'Not yet,' Nemu answered, fully turning around. 'But you should be getting the mental gratification I spoke about earlier. Go on. Whose reiatsu unlocks it?'

'There are levels and levels of access,' he continued. 'The current mode enables you to do simple arithmetic; the addition of the first reiatsu is the one that grants you access to all files. The second reiatsu allows you to make use of the synthesis machine in the corner – useful, through and through, after unfortunate circumstances force me into eating Lumina. Or Verona. Mostly Lumina, though. The third component enables decrypts the hidden data files and begins running background analytic models. The fourth allows you to modify the structure of the walls, not only in this section of Las Noches, but everywhere else.'

'Why would you want to modify the structure of the walls?' Nemu asked. In response, Szayel Aporro bowed his head and grinned.

'For telling you that,' he said softly, 'I would deserve a multitude of cookies. But let's take smaller steps, shall we? Nemu-chan.'

He gently rotated his left wrist inside the manacle, which was tight enough to draw blood.

'If you promise to make this looser, I will tell you who the first reiatsu belongs to,' Szayel softly uttered.

She smirked.

'It is yours,' Nemu said, blankly, making him look up in astonishment. 'I am sure you are not keen on having all of this machinery performing arithmetic all the time,' she finally laughed, with fake sound but true feeling. 'And since I further assume that you do not want to stalk the halls in search of a rare energy source each time that you _do_ want to use the machine, you employ the reiatsu that is most ergonomically on hand. Yours.'

'I really do listen,' she said, almost kindly.

She stood and walked to the side of the container, gazing briefly at the monitor before pressing a button and bringing a long, thin needle in line with his shoulder.

'This does not have to hurt,' Szayel pleaded, faintly.

'Oh, but it does,' Nemu answered. 'It certainly does.'

The needle thrust forward into the flesh and a thin, dark line of energy started circling the probe, travelling upwards and into a container to the side. Dissatisfied with how long the procedure took, Nemu found the level adjustment and pushed it to the maximum, making him whimper.

'You don't need that much,' the Arrancar whimpered. 'You have more than enough.'

'I think so,' she answered, thoughtfully. 'But so do you. You have too much of it, in fact…You are recovering too fast.'

'I did not use Gabriel on you to pointlessly hurt you,' he spat.

'Yet you did…pointlessly…hurt me,' Nemu snarled.

'Your master almost killed me,' he said, fidgeting in obvious pain. 'I needed your body to revive myself – I needed to hurt you. And if _he _hadn't let me catch you, I would have grabbed the Quincy. He let you be caught because he knew you would poison me one way or the other…Please…please…enough…_He _let me hurt you, he did not care what I did to you as long as he could use you. Please…'

The probe retired, with a soft mechanical hum, and Nemu returned to the board.

'It is pointless to try to turn me against Mayuri-sama,' she said, blankly, grabbing a small strand of energy and placing it into the appropriate slot. 'I have died for him before.'

'You did not die this time,' Szayel whispered. 'And he did not acknowledge the difference. That was what hurt you the most - he does not care that you suffered, as long as he got his way, in the end.'

Her shoulders tensed, and for a moment, he feared he had committed a serious misstep. Yet, once the reiatsu had appropriately fed the machine, Nemu had found the enhanced container controls and simply loosened the left manacle to a bearable level.

'For understanding that,' the Shinigami said emotionlessly, 'you do deserve a cookie.'

'Kurosutchi Mayuri did not place a real soul in you. He does not expect you to have one, and proof to the contrary…'

'_Now_ you are being pointlessly cruel.' she interrupted, and glanced pleadingly over her shoulder. 'The second and third reiatsu patterns are those of your vice captains.'

In spite of himself, Szayel snickered. 'I am sure Lumina and Verona would find the name quite insulting. But you are right. Almost there,' he added encouragingly, flexing the fingers of his left hand as if attempting to acknowledge they were still under his control.

'I am not even half way there,' Nemu muttered, to herself, reaching over to grab the vial that contained the remains of Lumina's reiatsu.

'Hmm?' he purred again, discovering that he was growing more enchanted with the Shinigami's fracction by the second.

'You are too relaxed.' Nemu stated flatly. 'Mayuri-sama enjoys showing other people how bright he is, but he does not enjoy people catching up. The fact that you are relaxed, although I have discovered three of your hidden keys, tells me that I still have a long way to go. The fourth reiatsu…'

'Indeed,' he echoed. 'The fourth. The interesting one. But firstly, back to my point. Do you have a soul, Kurosutchi Nemu?'

'What kind of a question is that?' the young woman winced, caught by surprise.

'A very reasonable one,' Szayel innocently responded. 'A justified one as well. I'm very sure your creator did not give you a soul, or if he did, he gave you a modified one, a _lite_ version. Did you sprout a real soul all on your own, when he was not looking?'

'Do you want your voice cut off?'

'Do _you _want to cut off my voice?'

Warm, honey colored pupils; half lowered dark eyelashes. Soft pink hair, pretty, delicate features. The face of a demon.

'You don't,' he said softly. 'Because I've made you curious.'

'I do not know if I have a real soul or not. How would I test its reality?' Nemu muttered.

'I meant I made you curious about the fourth reiatsu, but any amount of self introspection is always healthy,' Szayel chuckled.

'Do you think you have a soul? Monster?' the young woman suddenly shot, rapidly turning her chair around to face him. Tiny tension in the immobilized shoulders showed the Arrancar would have shrugged.

'Of course I do,' he answered. 'I have nothing else; I am nothing but reiatsu so strong that it takes solid form. That is why,' he added, his voice lowering to a whisper, 'everything you do hurts so much, Nemu-chan. You could make it hurt so much less…'

'I have seen your released form, Arrancar,' she replied dryly. 'If that is the true form of your soul, there is nothing that would make me regret hurting it. What is the trick with the fourth reiatsu?'

'No tricks,' Szayel answered. 'It is a reiatsu like any other. Just…a bit harder to get hold of.'

'Aizen's,' Nemu exclaimed.

'Nonononono, come on,' he scolded. 'Don't disappoint me now, soul-splinter. You have come so far without major deduction flaws. Aizen-sama would never lend his reiatsu to my machinery.'

'What do you want in exchange for the name, then? You cannot expect that I will guess…'

'Nothing.' Szayel answered. 'The fourth reiatsu belongs to the former Tercera Espada, Neliel Tu.'

'And I would find her in the…' Feverishly, Nemu began sifting through the maps of Las Noches, blueprint after blueprint flickering across the screen at amazing speed. 'I would find her in Privaron…'

'No,' the Octava replied, and this time his voice had been filled with satisfaction. 'No, you would not. Neliel Tu, is, opportunely, quite dead. She has been for months.'

_Though I felt her, just now. How odd._

A jolt of energy caused his muscles to tense almost to the point of snapping; he whimpered, and, for a moment, the ocean of pain yet again surged to cover all of his other thoughts.

'Don't play games with my Nemu, Szayel Aporro,' Mayuri amusedly said. 'You frustrate her little mind. Tell her what you want to tell her, but do make sure you will mention what you will not explain of your own volition. Just so I know what to listen for when you start screaming.'

Without warning, the manacle tightened, cutting through to the bone, but Szayel had not protested, too absorbed with noticing that for a second, Nemu had looked more frightened by Mayuri's sudden entrance than even he had been.

_Small steps._

It was odd, the Espada thought, managing a smirk, how fast time seemed to pass now, that the poison was fully out of his system; the only problem, was, of course, the fact that the rarefied particles of spirit matter in the air rendered his recovery excruciatingly slow.

'Eavesdropping is rude, Kurosutchi Mayuri,' Szayel uttered slowly, clenching his teeth and unwisely trying to hide the pain. He'd always thought that wisdom was to be valued over pride, and realized it would have been wise to let Kurosutchi think he felt more pain than he actually did, just in case the Shinigami would not be satisfied and decided to up the level another notch. Since Szayel had always been an avid admirer of the dramatic arts, pretence had never truly been a problem – especially when it came to pretending that he was weaker than he actually was.

_Because the weak don't get crushed. Only the strong do._

The one useful thing Il Forte had said throughout his entire life; incidentally, his only congratulations to Szayel Aporro when he had ascended to Espada status.

Somehow, however, what came easily and naturally with others did not come as easily and naturally with Kurosutchi Mayuri. Perhaps, Szayel Aporro, distantly thought, because he felt like he _actually _had something to prove. Rare a feeling, but clearly not an impossible one.

'I do not eavesdrop, Espada,' Mayuri shrugged. 'Nemu listens for me. I hear everything she hears; I see everything she sees, and definitely…'the Shinigami added, with a grin, 'I feel everything she feels. I made her that way, and though the information overload is more than your pretty head would ever comprehend…'

'You do not feel everything she feels,' Szayel Aporro refuted, flatly. 'If you did, Gabriel would have incapacitated you thoroughly; so I can only assume you made it so you feel her pleasures, and not her pains.'

Nemu had looked away.

_A bigger step._

'Wise choice, if you're in the custom of using her as a shield as well as a semen repository.'

_A leap._

Mayuri's eyes narrowed, and he shuffled closer to the container. To Szayel's dismay, the Shinigami did not look angry, but rather curious.

'There's no reason why you would feel safe in there, Espada.' He said calmly, strengthening his pronouncement with another jolt of mind rending pain. 'But you do feel safe. Most awkward. Have you lost your mind, I wonder?'

Szayel bit his lip and bowed his head, swallowing the answer. When this was not enough to avert Kurosutchi's searching gaze, he fidgeted and whimpered slightly. _This_ he did not want to give away too soon, not until the final act.

'Now,' Mayuri continued, visibly pleased and finally turning away, 'you mentioned something about the fourth key to your little security system. Do continue, please.'

'There is nothing left to say,' Szayel answered, softly. 'The fourth key is the reiatsu of Neliel Tu. You already know everything you need to know.'

'Don't play games with me, Arrancar,' Mayuri hissed. 'You're lying through your teeth; you have recently used the fourth level of your machine to modify the structure of the walls and trap vice-captain Abarai, but you say this Neliel has been dead for months.'

'Your point being?' Szayel inquired in return, not being able to repress a smile. Had his hands been free, he would have adjusted his glasses.

'Point being – how could you have gotten hold of the reiatsu of a dead person?' Kurosutchi snapped, realizing he was being mocked. 'She is either not dead, or not the key. Else, how…'

'Ask your Fracction,' the Hollow answered. 'I can clearly see that without her, your own deduction abilities are frightfully limited. I apologise, Nemu-chan,' he snickered, looking behind Mayuri, 'for wondering if it was his mind or yours. It is clearly your mind; he does not seem to possess any. Maybe he placed it in a jar somewhere, and forgot about it?'

'But I don't know,' she whispered, sustaining his gaze, and oblivious to the fact that her captain had threateningly turned towards her. 'I really don't know…'

'…yet,' Szayel echoed, kindly. 'You need to think about it undisturbed for about thirty seconds. And to be completely honest, you will need to get off the chair for this one – could not make it perfectly ergonomic. My humblest apologies.'

The Octava did not scream when the pain returned; not because he did not want to, but because the fear that if he did scream he would blow up his own amplifiers was stronger than anything else. He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, waiting for the jolt to pass – it did not, thousands of whips cracking against every stretched tendon.

'What is it that you don't get, Arrancar? You are nothing more than a little helpless ghost, trapped in a jar.' Mayuri's voice came, from afar. 'I can take you apart piece by tiny piece until you give me the answer…'

'Only idiots take their intellectual frustration out like this, Kurosutchi Mayuri,' Szayel managed, between pained gasps. 'You heard what I told her. You know the keys, you know what each of them allows you to do. You know every single little detail, you should be able to learn the answer. Now,' he whimpered, 'go… get'em…boy.'

'Do you really want to toy with me?' Mayuri hissed, and this time, Szayel thought in delight, the Shinigami was truly furious.

'I already am,' the Octava breathed. 'And I am enjoying every precious second of it.'

The jolt finally, mercifully subsided, and the Shinigami walked away, allowing his prisoner a brief respite. He was genuinely enraged however; Szayel could feel the electrical crackle of his reiatsu. He could almost taste it.

'Nemu-chan,' Mayuri began, his soft tone not betraying any of his inner fury. 'Our host is enjoying himself. Help him enjoy himself for a little while _longer_.'

'Shit,' Szayel whispered, the word getting away before he could catch it. He swallowed dry, and pointlessly tried to look away from the measured gestures of the girl, who'd promptly begun to draw a bit of her poisonous blood. 'Taking my mind away won't cancel the fact that yours is weak, Shinigami…' he faintly protested.

'It is not weak,' Kurosutchi snarled, spinning on himself. 'I simply do not want to apply my reason to such a menial cause as playing with you.'

'I've never heard that excuse before,' Szayel sighed. 'You truly make my head spin.'

With small, perfectly equal steps, Nemu approached the glass container; she only looked up when she stood a foot away from the Arrancar, and her glance crossed Szayel's for just long enough to make him realize that he had come far, but not far enough.

'Please, don't,' he had mouthed, making no sound. 'Anything but that, Nemu-chan.' Though she had clearly seen and understood the words, she'd had found the tube that fed into his arm, and, with precise, mechanical gestures, detached it from the IV stand.

'Who is being pointlessly cruel now?' he whispered, making Mayuri cackle.

'Your efforts are wasted, Espada,' the Shinigami had said, sitting before the keypad. 'Nemu does what she is told, when she is told to do it. She is nothing but an extension of my will and of my mind – your illusions that Nemu can think on her own are no more than figments of your imagination.'

'He's wrong,' Szayel echoed, so softly that he did not even hear himself, yet the girl looked up again, to meet his glance, as if she'd felt the words. 'He wants the answer to my little riddle, but he can't find it himself, because he cannot listen. You can. You already know the answer.'

'I don't,' she returned, in an equally low whisper, fitting her syringe to the tube. Then, unexpectedly, her gaze became sharp and focused, gold rings appearing around the edges of her dark irises. 'Give me another hint,' Nemu said. 'One more.'

'Yes, Espada,' Kurosutchi mildly prompted, making her cringe. 'Give her another hint.'

Ignoring him, as well as the fact that he'd been clearly speaking through her lips, Szayel stared intently into Nemu's eyes, into the darkness beyond the gold.

'Backwards,' he said, softly. 'Think backwards through the lower layers to get to the top.'

Kurosutchi bent over with manic cackles, as Nemu's blood slowly made its way through the tube and Szayel hopelessly shook his arm in an attempt of ripping out the needle. 'Is that even supposed to make sense?'

'Please, please, please, Nemu-chan,' Szayel begged, in true fright, fearing the clear, crimson liquid more than he feared any sword. 'Don't do this to me again…'

'I doesn't even make sense to me,' Kurosutchi continued to cackle, in the background. 'How do you hope it would make sense to a gigai? To a mindless, soulless gigai?'

Szayel felt the fact that the poison had reached his bloodstream as if he'd been hit with a million hammers, and wasted what he thought was his last conscious gesture on tensing his arm against the manacle. He leaned his head back, and continued to watch her through half closed eyes. When the piston of the syringe stopped less than half way through the completely filled cylinder, he'd thought that time had yet again frozen. It hadn't.

Keeping her hands perfectly in front of her body, and her blank stare on the floor, Nemu pulled the syringe away from the tube and slowly emptied it to the side, before turning her back on the Arrancar and walking away in the same mechanical fashion. Awake enough to understand he'd been spared the full extent of the punishment, but not in sufficient control of himself to hide his triumph, Szayel Aporro had laughed – at first snickering to himself, but then chuckling out loud, the sound flowing out of the amplifiers and making Kurosutchi stand away from the panel.

Nemu had cringed, but her creator had paid her no heed. Instead, he'd slowly walked to the side of the container to gaze thoughtfully at the Espada.

'You are no longer afraid of me, Szayel Aporro Granz.' Mayuri said, stating the obvious. 'Why is that? Is it because you think your little riddle will stand in my way?'

'This…' Szayel articulated, with considerable difficulty, 'has nothing to do…with the machine. It has nothing to do…with…with your Fracction, either…Nor do your Fracction and the machine…have…anything to do…with your ultimate defeat.'

He paused, drawing a deep breath as the poison filled his veins with lead.

'Did it take so little for you to go insane?' the Shinigami wondered, in disappointment.

'You do not…listen, Kurosutchi Mayuri.' Szayel returned, his voice trailing off. 'I told you that I am perfect…and I am…_perfect_.'

Sweet, honey coloured eyes narrowed behind the thick lenses.

'I remember…'Szayel whispered, whipping the last remnants of his consciousness into submission, 'I remember….what you forgot.'

* * *

What did Mayuri forget? Why is Szayel being so nice to Nemu? How _did_ Bush get elected _twice? _Is a Jaffa Cake a cake or a biscuit? The answer to some of those will be in the next chapters. Sadly, others will remain a mystery forever.

Up next - Renji meets Lilinette. And Stark, but mostly Lilinette.


	10. Toxic

Warnings: Some language - and some break time ahead :) My birthday was today, a day of failure, since I did not the Nobel Prize for Literature by the age of 25, which was my life's goal. Since 22.34 tonight, I have to chew on my defeat. But you have to admit, my smut writing is...disturbing...not Nobel prize worthy but...OK! Will probably be a break over the weekend, that is if I cannot be sufficiently sober this morning, ad if I am extremely busy at work tomorrow. My parents are over, and they reject my writing as much as they ever did.

Chapter 10 - Where Renji discovers that Zabimaru bends in various ways...Not all of them useful.

* * *

'Look, he drew his sword and he's looking at me all scary-like. Think if I prod him, he will die?'

'Most likely,' Stark approved, with a shrug. 'Shouldn't you try to talk to him first, though? Since we promised the Quincy we won't harm his friends, might be something you want to try…'

'Oi, Shinigami!' Lilinette shrilled after a fast and unconvinced nod, cupping her palms on the sides of her mouth to amplify the already loud sound. 'Doncha know tattoos denote low self esteem? 'xcept when they're Espada tattoos, of course,' she added, in Stark's direction.

'I wouldn't necessarily make that distinction,' the Espada mumbled. 'Also, he's having a bad hair day. Mention it. It always makes people friendly.'

'…and you're having a bad hair day!' Lilinette yelled. 'What did ya do, bathe in a river of expired hairgel?'

'Who the hell are you?' Abarai Renji growled, rotating his wrist. Zabimaru felt heavy and cold, his wheight pulling on the Shinigami's still sensitive tendons, while the floor still waved and writhed under his feet. He was not ready for another battle. Not by a long shot. In addition, even at fifty yards' distance, the two Arranacar had a combined presence that rivaled captain Kenpachi's; the fact that the reiatsu did not howl all around him with all the force of a thunderstorm did not make Renji feel more at ease. On the contrary, it just meant that, still weak and wounded, he was standing against a Kenpachi in full control of his capacities.

'Arrancar 17. Lilinette.'

'And what are ya, the self-appointed stylist of this place?' Renji snapped, in spite of himself. 'I thought I had already gotten away from all the people with a gay sense of dress!'

'Who-hoo!' the child Arrancar giggled. 'A pun on Szayel Aporro! Ya know, Shinigami, the two of us could be friends!'

In the next split second, she was there – _there_, a few inches away from him, standing unconcerned just in Zabimaru's reach. Renji winced, and attempted to concentrate, yet, when compared to the speed that the child had just demonstrated, it felt as if his nervous impulses were travelling though his body at the speed of molasses.

'It's not that your body is really slow, Shinigami,' the child whispered. 'It's just mine's really fast.' She explained, smiling, as if sensing his predicament. 'Also,' Lilinette chimed, jumping a step back as Renji flexed his sword arm, 'my sense of dress is not gay. And even if it was gay, girl gayness is cool. Only guy gayness is bad.'

'Gods, I need to stop you from hanging out with Grimmjow,' Stark exclaimed, slapping his forehead. He'd only realized he had said the wrong thing when he had felt Lilinette's reiatsu sharpening furiously, but he'd been too late to stop her.

'This one and his buddies already took care of _that_,' Lilinette snarled, and Renji did not even see her move before he felt the kick – yet, he did feel the kick as if the lightning fast movement had lasted ages; he'd felt his kimono pressing against his skin as her foot made contact with his shoulder. He felt his flesh compress painfully against his bones, then slowly, as if his bones had been made out of chalk, he felt each of the tiny cracks that suddenly exploded along their length widen and spread. He even thought he'd heard the crack, when his collarbone gave in, and snapped outwards through the skin. Only for a second – for, in the next, her surprisingly tiny fist pressed the already shattered bone back into his flesh, causing his arm to jolt out of his control.

Renji jumped back, but Lilinette was already there, kicking him between the shoulders and making him stumble forward helplessly. She was also there to prevent him from falling on his face, by punching him in the stomach with such fury that the Shinigami had felt his internal organs move.

Then, she had simply jumped back and giggled.

'Coolness!' she exclaimed.

'Do you feel better now?' Stark asked, with a smirk.

'I feel a lot better now.' Lilinette answered.

'You know, ' the Espada mused, striding casually forward. 'I was kind of hoping your little discussions with Grimmjow would lead you to have a sufficiently enlarged arsenal of insults so that you could find some way of expressing aggression in a non-violent way.'

'Nah,' the girl shrugged. 'Still like kicking people…'

'Damn you!' Renji had spat, awkwardly swallowing back his blood.

'Didn't kick him that hard,' Lilinette excused herself. 'Look, he's still standing. And he's still cursing. Should I kick him again? For real this time?'

'You still didn't try the talking part properly,' Stark sighed, stopping a few feet behind her and letting himself lean heavily against the corridor wall. 'Remember, we did promise the Quincy…'

Renji's sense of hearing suddenly overcame the maddening pounding of the blood beneath his temples.

'Ishida?' he breathed, a thin trickle of blood escaping his lips. 'You…fought Ishida…?'

Lilinette frowned.

'We just talked to him a little. And I didn't kick him at all.'

'Which, as you might understand, Shinigami, is a great feat,' Stark added. 'Now, if you do not mind, could you sit next to the wall and pant, as befits your condition? Your stubbornly standing in the middle of the corridor, sword in hand no less, seems to make Lilinette a bit homicidal. Makes me sleepy, too. Not a good combination – ideally, you'd want me to be homicidal and her to be sleepy.'

'That never happens, tho,' the girl laughed, making Stark shrug helplessly, as if yielding to the unfairness of the universe. 'What do ya say, Shinigami guy? Wanna get out of the way so we can go through?'

'Go through?' Renji panted, his gaze fixed on the Espada. It was his reiatsu, the young man thought, painstakingly, that was so oppressive. It was his, not the girl's…the girl was a lance, a thin, furious cutting lance, an explosion. When she did not move, her presence was barely noticeable. 'Who are you?' he repeated. 'Answer me, Espada!' the vice-captain grunted, taking a shaky step forward.

'You guessed I'm an Espada,' Stark said, kindly. 'That should be enough. Does my name or rank really matter? Ridiculous obsession, truthfully…'

And then, Renji had laughed, the sound forming in his blood invaded lungs and creeping painfully outwards. 'Do you think that I will simply let you past me?' he asked, panting heavily. 'This section of your hell is under our control now…'

'Not really.' Stark had yawned. 'This section of Las Noches belongs to Szayel Aporro Granz. You might remember him – the pink haired guy with the undefined and disturbing sexuality. The one who put you in the pitiful condition you are in without even flexing his reiatsu.'

'He's dead,' Renji smirked, uttering the words with tremendous satisfaction.

'Sooooo not,' Lilinette replied, with a small wink. 'Don't be stupid, Shinigami guy. We can feel him just like you can feel your friends. So we need to get by. Unfortunately, Szayel Aporro, uh, Szayel Aporro-sama, of course, heh, messed with the walls – something or other about making them safe, fuck knows. We can't go through them without smashing, so we need to take the corridor, like…ya know, lesser people.' She giggled, cranking her nose. 'Sorta like you. Get it?'

'That was so eloquent, Lilinette,' Stark chuckled, making the girl grin widely, and half turn towards him, the index and middle finger of her right hand shaped into a victory sign.

'Ya think?' she asked, giggling.

'But you need to conclude it.' Stark nodded. 'Something ominous. Like – 'Get out of our way, else I will…'

'Kick you in the balls!' Lilinette completed.

'That always gets me,' the Espada moaned, doubling over in memory of the sensation.

'Who are you two?' Renji bellowed, straightening and raising Zabimaru, in an explosion of willpower. The sudden surge of energy had finally heated the tired blade's heart, and awakened him; no longer cold and heavy, the zanpakutoh once again felt like a part of his master's body. Red lightning cracked along the blade, making it spread and lengthen, then crawled upwards on his arm, sealing his broken chest. Without waiting for an answer, Renji flung himself forward just as Zabimaru whipped out in howling fury.

'Lilinette!' Stark called - for a second, Renji had thought he had heard panic in the Espada's voice. Yet oddly, the man had not stood from the wall. Is he going to just watch me slice her to pieces? The Shinigami had wondered, nonetheless allowing the spirit of his sword to drag him forth. It did not matter, Renji thought, realizing the Espada was right. It did not matter that this Arrancar had a child shape. It did not matter who they were. He would not let them through.

'Howl, Zabimaru,' he shouted, as the Zanpakutoh hissed forward, splitting the air. In spite of her master's warning, the child Arrancar did not move until the blade was mere inches from her tiny body; she darted upwards, and Zabimaru followed. She bounced off the ceiling and to the right, the wide blade of the shikai hot on her trail. Lilinette laughed, crystal clear sound rising over the sound of the blade as she kneeled on the wall of the corridor, before darting across, iron sending sparks in the air as Zabimaru connected with the stone. In the back of his mind, Renji had noticed the Espada did not even flinch.

After landing on the left wall, Lilinette allowed herself to drop a few inches before darting upwards again, right through the midst of the zanpakutoh's jagged fangs.

'Gotcha!' Renji yelled, pulling his arm back. The iron segments united with each other, closing in on the child Arrancar's frail form; hanging in mid air, a few feet above the ground, Lilinette had looked confused. Then, Zabimaru's blade had clenched.

Clenched itself into a neat, perfect double bow, behind the Fracction.

'Pretty,' Stark noted impassively. 'Make him write his name next time. For the love of God, Lilinette, don't kick him…'

The lance had cut though the darkness, bright and blinding. Renji had barely had time to register the odd sensation of the thatched sole of the Arrancar's sandal on his forehead. It was almost soft, the Shinigami eerily thought, before the light exploded in his mind, behind his forehead, in his chest, in his limbs, pouring though his senses and in Zabimaru's blade. The shikai melted gently in the air, bright warmth eating at the iron and causing it to dissolve as Renji fell backwards, and the world faded away.

'…in the face,' the Espada had finished, in a deep sigh.

Abarai Renji did not hear the last part.

He only awoke much later, to find Ishida leaning over him with a look that portrayed equal amounts of amusement and concern.

'Welcome back, Abarai,' the Quincy had grinned. 'I see you've met Lilinette.'

'…ow…,' Renji managed to articulate, trying to lift his head, but failing miserably. His skull seemed to have gathered the weight of lead, while his thoughts had become unpleasantly slippery and unmanageable.

'How do I know?' Ishida completed, this time chuckling out loud and looking relieved at the fact that Renji could still speak at all.

'Yeah,' the Shinigami muttered, pulling himself up.

'You have a very clear footprint on your forehead that could only belong to her,' the archer laughed. 'Should I suppose they walked all over you _again_, Abarai?'

'And you think this funny, Quincy?' Renji snapped. 'They are through to wherever they want to go. I have a broken collarbone, God knows how many broken ribs…'

'No, you don't,' Ishida retorted frowning.

Finally managing to prop himself up on his right elbow, Renji slid his left hand over his chest; there were still traces of blood, not caked yet, which reassured him that he had not been knocked out for too long, but…

He looked up at Ishida, in clear confusion.

'I swear she broke my collarbone,' he said. 'In two places…Did she heal me?' the Shinigami breathed, feeling along his amazingly intact bone. The skin felt cold and hard to the touch, and vibrated with a foreign, aggressive energy pattern…'No, she didn't.' The Shinigami whispered, softly. '_He_ did.'

'Stark healed you?' Ishida echoed. 'That is strange, his reiatsu is probably the most toxic one I have felt since we have arrived…'

'Oh, believe me, it is…' Renji moaned, understanding why he felt so weak, in spite of the fact that his body seemed fully restored. Still, the alien reiatsu was far less incapacitating than broken bones would have been. 'What did you call him?'

'Stark. The second Espada,' Ishida dryly responded. 'He promised me he would not hurt any of you, and I see he is keeping his word. Can you walk, Abarai?'

Without waiting for an answer, the Quincy pulled Renji to his feet and started dragging him down the corridor.

'Thanks for sparing me here, Quincy,' he muttered, limping on Ishida's trail. 'What is going on?'

'Kurosutchi Mayuri is about to get crushed,' Ishida answered clenching his teeth, and not knowing whether he was rushing down the corridor to prevent Kurosutchi's defeat or simply to enjoy watching it.

* * *

Up next - the answer to all of Szayel's riddles. Not to Bush's reelection. Sorry - Szayel Aporro could try explaining that one, but as much as I love him, I think he would fail.


	11. Vanity

Warnings - Language and just a hint of violence.

Chapter 11 - The cavalry brigade.

* * *

'The synthesis machine,' Nemu said blankly. 'That is how you get the reiatsu of the dead Espada. The synthesis machine. I can turn it on with your first vice-captain's reiatsu; the second vice-captain's reiatsu allows me to load all the information on her. And then, I can simply…make it.'

She had, indeed, found the answer almost as soon as Mayuri had left the room, and the mixture of fear and adoration that she always felt when he was about had stopped clouding her mind. The Shinigami had half turned around, looking over her shoulder at the Arrancar; she patiently waited for him to nod, counting back the long seconds between the time when he had acknowledged hearing the phrase, and the moment when he could actually force himself to nod in accord. She'd only been off by four seconds, Nemu thought, registering the fact that he had been quicker to respond than he should have been, as a mental note for future dosages.

Nemu hesitated on the edge of the seat, looking wistfully at the contraption in the corner. She fitted the vials she had to their appropriate spots, and started sifting through the files; when she had found the one she'd been looking for though, her hand had frozen and interminably hung above the button.

'He's not…going to be…happy with you…Nemu-chan.' Szayel whispered, understanding her hesitation. 'If you turn it on…he will…know you are…brighter than…him.'

_Vanity…_

'I could never be brighter than Mayuri-sama,' she answered, in an equally low tone. 'He would not have made me brighter than he is.'

A long silence followed, but Nemu did not lose her patience; she again counted the seconds until his response could form, in his mind, then on his lips.

'Maybe not…brighter, per se…'Szayel conceded, softly. 'But…he forgets his own…little speech. If you think you are…perfect, which he is…_not_, you stop…questioning. Your mind may be…as strong as his…but you…have curiosity and humility towards…things greater than yourself, soul…splinter. Which makes you…better. Prove…it…to him.'

'Why would this matter to you, Arrancar?' she shot, and this time, the silence was much longer than she had expected it would be.

'Because…I hate…misuse…of a perfectly good creation…' the Espada said. 'It is…a waste.'

Of course, Nemu thought, dully.

'He will not treat you better if you make yourself useful,' she said. 'And in the end, when the war is over, he will kill you no matter how intelligent you prove yourself to be, and no matter how much you impress him with what you have made here.'

'I…know,' Szayel whimpered. 'But it is you…I am negotiating with…not…him.'

Sighing, Nemu turned towards the screen, and selected Neliel Tu's files – she then stood, and went to inspect the machine in the corner.

'It…is not going to…explode,' Szayel chuckled, in spite of himself. 'I am not…suicidal…sadly.'

Acknowledging that the statement was true, Nemu cracked one of her eerie smiles and returned to the key panel. The vibrations of the machine filled the air, making her cringe – it felt as if the air around her had was becoming stale and stinging at the same time, as the machine pulled the spirit particles together. Within a few seconds, the tension in the air was palpable, and visible dark strands had begun floating around the container, crackling and hissing against each other.

'Nemu, you are shutting me out of your mind and I do not like it…' Mayuri thundered, bursting in and shuffling hurriedly to her side. 'What are you doing?'

'It was so simple, Mayuri-sama,' she responded. 'He can make himself new fracctiones with new reiatsu – if he can make that, why would he not be able to create other kinds of reiatsu as well?'

_Get angry. Get angry now, bastard._

'You could not have figured this by yourself,' the Shinigami captain snapped; behind him, Szayel had to bite his lips to the blood to keep himself from chuckling. 'Did he tell you how it works?'

_A dance on the palm of my hand. _

'Yes,' Nemu lied, softly bowing her head.

'And why would he do such a thing, you dumb girl?'

'Because he is hoping to convince me to give him the antidote to the enhancer drug,' the girl said, so fluently and naturally that Szayel was amazed. She truly was something to wonder at, the Arrancar thought, feeling more than a little spite at the fact that the Shinigami had managed to make such a perfectly lifelike being. But then, the Octava conceded to himself, struggling for a lifelike creation was not necessarily wise; of course, it might have given one the illusion that one was a God, yet, in the end, for all practical purposes, genuine life was chaotic, hard to control and bend to one's will. All in all, if one created servants, ensuring that they would actually serve would be the prerequisite.

And, while Mayuri Kurosutchi's attention was concentrated on keeping Nemu's growing personality under control, and wasting his time on pointlessly questioning himself on why anyone in Szayel's position would try to do something as futile as making the girl rebel, the synthesis machine created a rampaging storm of spirit particles - which spread, cracked and writhed, shaping itself into the form of Neliel's energy…A storm powerful enough to completely mask the approach of the _other _tempest. The otherreiatsu.

The only thing that was detrimental about having as much spirit energy as Stark did was the fact that it could be sensed from a distance, if one knew what to listen for, and that, when it approached enough, it was insuppressible for any longer than thirty seconds. Not that it mattered, now, Szayel thought, thinking that the level at which the machine had been set was painful and deafening even to him. Even if Stark had left his reiatsu completely loose, neither Nemu nor Mayuri would have been able to distinguish it over the noise.

A small green light at the side of the reiatsu container blinked, signaling that the process was complete and the hum of the machine stopped – in spite of that, the furious particles continued to spin around it. Like always, with Neliel's energy patterns, it would take days for the cloud to fully settle; normally Szayel hated the disturbance, and he had even thought of tinkering with the machine to make it repel spirit particles as well as attract and transform them.

Yet, that was for later, he distractedly thought, watching Mayuri Kurosutchi slap Nemu's hands away, and greedily collecting the result of her quick thinking for himself. The Shinigami had emitted a brief cackle, before placing the last key in place, and the keypad had finally become fully illuminated, soft light spreading under the embedded buttons.

_Why thank you_, _Kurosutchi Mayuri_, Szayel thought, _that was most kind_.

His triumphant grin had turned into a frown of dismay as the solid metal door to his laboratory suddenly bent inwards and crumpled, as if it had been a thin aluminum sheet. When it had been bent enough to be loose of the wall rails, it had simply been pulled out – Kurosutchi had barely had time to spin the chair around.

Looking thoroughly bored, Stark had walked in, casually shaking off the crumpled metal that was still attached to the extended palm of his hand. Behind him, Lilinette had darted in in her turn, a sleek, white projectile hissing through the air and bouncing off the back wall before landing on one knee in front of the container.

'Ew,' Lilinette exclaimed, with a frown. 'You're naked.'

'And you're an annoying…brat. Of our respective problems…mine will soon be…remedied, while yours will…forever linger.' Szayel snapped, trying his best to sound furious.

'Not enjoying your own accommodation, Octava?' Stark mused. Not giving Szayel time to respond, he slightly inched forward to curiously glance at Kurosutchi. 'What the hell are you?' he asked, in honest amazement.

'I might ask the same thing,' Mayuri returned. 'Impressive reiatsu. Not frightening, but impressive.' He added, with a cackle. 'I am…'

'I know who you are,' Stark answered with a yawn. 'You are the captain of some Gotei division, Kurosutchi…something-or-other. Didn't ask who you were. I asked what you were. You stink of six different reiatsu, and none of them is yours…never mind. I am sure you would adore explaining, but I am not here to chat.'

He had turned around, and thus not seen Kurosutchi's mouth gaping open at his impertinence; for a moment, the world had been reduced to Lilinette.

'You really want to do this, hm?' he softly whispered, as if awaiting some mercy; the girl nodded.

'_You_ want to do this,' she had returned, kindly. He drew a deep breath and let it out with a sigh.

_Eternity is too long to sleep through, anyway._

'I am Stark,' he said, turning to Kurosutchi. 'In Aizen's the artificial ranking of which of his creations is the most powerful, I am second. Sadly, Aizen did not rank us according to which one of us is the most disturbingly evil bastard.'

A cutting, sideways glance of his blue eyes slid over Kurosutchi.

'If he had, I would be first.' Stark smiled.

'I will tell you this once, and once only, Shinigami captain. I have no patience for your kind – you have had your fun with Szayel Aporro. Now it is over and you will make a dignified retreat, returning to your own contingent and patiently waiting for Aizen-_sama_'s next move.'

'The…hell...he will…' Szayel Aporro growled. 'Let me out…Lilinette.'

'If you will choose not to make a dignified retreat in the next minute, I promise you will become the most disgusting specimen of Szayel's collection.'

'An' that's, like, hard,' Lilinette giggled, looking around.

'Let me…out!' Szayel fidgeted, irately. Stark's reiatsu was strangely inordinate. Furious, Szayel realized, frowning at the child Arrancar to make her haste. He'd never felt Stark's reiatsu even crackle – just like the man himself, his energy was a still, dark pool. But now, something was dangerously stirring in the depth, and Szayel could sense Stark was not gathering strength to attack Mayuri Kurosutchi. The Shinigami was so much below him that such a concentration did not make sense – it was something…something else. 'Let me out.' He repeated, this time in a whisper.

With a little conceding sigh, which was meant to demonstrate she was performing the action out of the goodness of her heart and not because the Espada had any authority over her, the Arrancar had adroitly lowered the control monitor, slipping it to the side to find the lever of the hydraulic pump.

She did not even flinch when Mayuri Kurosutchi's extensible arm whipped forward for twenty feet, crossing the room and clenching its fingers around her wrist; without a word, the Shinigami attempted to pull her towards him. Although she allowed herself to slip for a foot, and her sandal dug into the stone floor, causing it to rip and curl as if it had been mere fabric, Lilinette resisted the pull, raising her forearm straight to look at the hand that grabbed her through her dangerously narrowed eye.

'Well, if that ain't the most disgusting thing I ever saw. 'xcept for you being naked,' she muttered towards Szayel.

'I see,' Stark said, gazing thoughtfully at the bloodied length of chain that extended from the Shinigami's shoulder. 'No dignified retreat. Have it your way, then.'

'You Ok for this?' he asked in a quiet voice, addressing Lilinette without turning his head. His Fracction nodded, though beads of sweat had begun forming on her forehead, and he nodded as well, turning his sleepy gaze to the dark-haired Shinigami. 'You,' he began slowly, 'are you Nemu?'

Nemu nodded almost in spite of herself. He'd disappeared, and reappeared behind her in the same blink of an eye.

'No range…but…sword coated in paralyzing…poison,' the Octava muttered slowly, towards Lilinette. 'Be…wary of the shikai. Not-spirit based…' She'd acknowledged the words with another small nod. Then, the world gained momentum.

The Vice-captain had only become aware of the fact that she'd been carried to the opposite corner of the chamber when Stark had put her down, very gently. Furious, Mayuri had again tugged his arm in, succeeding in yanking Lilinette off her feet.

'Rip, Ashisogi Jizo,' he commanded, in the same breath, as he easily hurled Lilinette through the air. Reassuringly yielding, the blade had morphed into a golden trident, and the Shinigami had extended his right arm to the side, ready to stab the Arrancar that was helplessly trapped by his left arm. He looked up, taking aim and ready to savor the look of terror on the little girl's face; it was only then that he realized Lilinette was grinning from ear to ear.

Both her feet had come into contact with Mayuri's chest. Aided by the Arranacar's blinding speed, as well as by the force of his pull, the hit had had devastating force. Kurosutchi had heard his ribs crack, and immediately understood that she had crushed one of his lungs, but had given himself no time to acknowledge the pain. The trident hissed though the air, aimed at the Arrancar's chest, but slipped harmlessly barely an inch under her arched spine. Lilinette flipped backwards, her right foot kicking his chin as she spun gracefully in the air – she landed safely on one knee, while the Shinigami helplessly stumbled a step back.

'Dontcha know it's rude to grab people? Ya raised in the woods? Sheesh…' she hissed, looking up, and extending the forearm that Mayuri still held on to towards the side. She had flung herself to the left, rolling over to avoid another jab of the sword, and laughed as the blade had sent sparks flying from the rock – she was too fast for Kurosutchi's eyes to even register her movement. The girl jumped to her feet and ran to the side, becoming a white dash of light which reflected alternatively on the walls, sometimes passing in front, and sometimes passing behind Kurosutchi. Within a second the captain had been helplessly wrapped in his own chain, the blood leaving dark markings on the immaculate whiteness of his cape. He'd realized what was happening in but a few seconds, but he'd been too late to dislodge the torn arm from his shoulder. Once again landing in front of him, Lilinette had pointed the index finger of her other hand at one of the many metallic joints.

'Nonononono,' Szayel faintly protested, guessing what was to follow.

'Cero,' the blonde girl said, with obvious satisfaction and red light exploded in the room, shattering the chain and travelling along it to engulf the Shinigami's entire body.

'Mayuri-sama!' Nemu screamed, attempting to jump to her captain's aid; Stark had grabbed her shoulder and pressed her back to the floor.

'…promised I won't hurt you,' he said, sternly. 'Stay put and out of the way, or else I won't hesitate to do it.'

Kurosutchi had grunted in pain, shaking his shoulder and letting the broken parts of his arm fall to the floor, alongside his burned body. The fingers of the dead limb slipped off Lilinette, and the girl darted back across the room.

'Can kick him. I didn't dissolve his shikai in one, though,' she regretfully said, then coughed to adjust her voice. In spite of the fact that the Cero had seemingly turned the Shinigami into a smoking heap of cloth, the green, poisonous breath of Ashizogi Jizo was still rising and clearly distinguishable amidst the fumes that were coming out of the burned kimono. 'I'll have another go.'

The Espada nodded in approval, and frowned a little. At his feet, Nemu whimpered, feeling the man's reiatsu rising and writhing about her. The sensation that she'd suddenly been submerged in a jar of cold, viscous fluid was so strong that she'd mindlessly run her fingers across the bare part of her arm, half expecting it to be wet.

'No…Cero in the laboratory,' Szayel finally concluded, his voice and consciousness still hopelessly lagged from reality. Lilinette incredulously looked over her shoulder and giggled.

'Ya been drinking?' she asked in good humor. 'Bit slow on the bitching today…' She coughed, a few rosy splatters dotting her white glove. 'What the…' Lilinette had coughed again, this time bending over in obvious pain. She'd pressed her hand over her lips, and worriedly looked at the dark, crimson stains. 'He didn't touch me,' she breathed, slipping to her knees and desperately attempting to swallow back the blood. 'I promise ya,' she whimpered, looking up at Stark, 'he didn't…'

'He must have,' Stark concluded sternly, grimacing in disgust as Mayuri's shoulder began writhing under the burned folds of the kimono. 'This just goes to show that you cannot do captain class yet, Lilinette.'

'Bullshit,' she stubbornly coughed, attempting to straighten her back. 'He didn't even see me.'

'The Shikai's…fumes are poisonous…,' Szayel snapped from behind. 'Now let _me_…the…fuck out before he fills the…entire room with…this crap!'

'He has a point, second Espada, though I cannot see what _he_ can do to stop my weapon.' Kurosutchi cackled; smoke emerged from between his lips and from under the corner of his mask, but his voice sounded maddeningly pleased. With a dull click the chain dislodged from his shoulder, and began to unwind, falling to the floor. 'Even if you do let him out, he too is powerless against the poison.'

'Your underling is an interesting power type, but an underdeveloped and very vulnerable one.' Kurosutchi continued, cranking his neck to set his bones; a white stump of amorphous flesh began growing from his bloodied shoulder, extending into the shape of another arm. 'Sadly for her, as we speak, Ashizogi Jizo's breath is slowly liquefying her internal organs. Without the antidote – well, it may take hours, or even days, but in the end…'

'Let Szayel Aporro out, Lilinette.'

The words had been less than a cut off breath, and for a second it had looked as if Mayuri Kurosutchi had helplessly been tossed across the room before Stark had even appeared beside him. He had not even truly been hit, the Shinigami realized – it had felt as if a piston the size of a wall had suddenly materialized and brushed him out of the way, as if he'd been no more than a feather, hurling him thirty feet to the right. The Espada had not even taken his hands out his pockets.

'Nemu,' Mayuri grunted, rolling on the side, and jumping to his feet. 'Front and center, Nemu!' It was the last thing he had been able to say, before Stark had appeared beside him, and grabbed the corners of his mask.

The vice captain had reacted with fluid grace and astounding speed, yet Stark had but to turn his gaze in her direction for her to fly helplessly against the back wall, deeply indenting the stone. His reiatsu roared – a thousand of agonizing voices from the depth of a chasm. As if she had barely felt the tremendous force of the hit, she'd come at him again, managing to come within three feet before suddenly freezing in mid step.

'I told you,' Stark snarled, 'to stay put.' He shifted his weight to his other leg, half turning towards her. After intently gazing at her for what felt like an eternity, Stark lifted his chin, causing her to float helplessly in the air – behind them, Szayel's prison had finally lifted, and the Octava had shakily stumbled out. 'I only say things,' the Segunda had continued, in a dangerous, low growl, 'once.'

He'd clenched his fist - the only sound that had echoed through Szayel Aporro's laboratory as Nemu's right tibia shattered was the dry crack of the bone itself; she had uttered no protest to the fact that her calve had suddenly snapped backward at mid length, the shards protruding sharply though skin and muscle. Frozen and immobile, Nemu had looked down at her bleeding leg and grimaced in pain, the sensation only vaguely more poignant than everything else she felt – his reiatsu had been shredding at every inch of her body with countless jagged knives. The crushing impact with the wall, when he had finally tossed her aside, once again turning his attention to Mayuri, had been a great relief.

Still, her ill fated attack had allowed her creator enough time to plunge the golden trident into Stark's shoulder; the Espada had frowned and jumped back, mockingly glancing down at the Shinigami.

'Ow,' he said, not understanding why Kurosutchi had contented himself on such an inconsequential wound. 'You hurt my pride.'

Mayuri cackled in response; it did not matter how strong his reiatsu was, the Shinigami knew it. The poison on Ashizogi Jizo's blade got them all, in the end. It just took some longer than others.

'Nemu!' he barked again.

Painstakingly propping herself up, Nemu attempted to get up on one knee.

'Yes, Mayuri-sama…,' she whispered, the desire of obeying her creator strong enough to cancel the pain; she barely noticed Szayel when he languorously leaned above her, glasses gleaming dangerously.

'Hello, pretty soul…splinter,' the Octava whispered in her ear, his face so close to hers that his soft tresses caressed her cheek. 'I think you have…something I…want.' She whimpered, not in fright, but in desperate revulsion, and tried to slither away. Nemu managed a few torturous inches before the Espada's mind caught up with reality, and he resolutely pressed his knee against the gaping wound, crushing the bone further and keeping her still. 'Now, Nemu-chan,' he said softly, and sounding genuinely insulted. 'Why would you want to get…away from me? I thought we had a…rapport going.'

His cold, skeletal fingers slipped over her chest, roughly and clumsily feeling through the fine silk of the kimono; eyes wide in terror and disgust, Nemu held her breath, and muttered faint protests as the Espada's hands slipped under the wide, white strap around her waist.

Understanding what Nemu thought, Szayel shook his head in amusement.

'I am…offended,' he chuckled. 'You confuse…me with your…maker. I am simply looking…for the antidotes you…mentioned you had…earlier. Ah,' he sighed with pleasure. With a surprisingly deft and strong gesture, Szayel had unwrapped the strap, shifting his wheight to allow Nemu to helplessly roll on the side. He then spread the belt on the bloodied floor, and grimaced at the sight of the twenty to thirty vials that were hidden in its folds.

'…Shit,' he said, almost without anger. 'You're a…regular treasure…trove, Nemu-chan.'

Szayel had looked over his shoulder at Lilinette, who was still on her knees, her head bowed. A thin trickle of blood ran from the corner of her lips to the side of her throat and on the center of the chest her vest left bare.

'Which ones are…they?' he asked softly. The Shinigami remained silent, gazing blankly at the immobile form of her master, as blood pooled under her broken leg. 'Don't play…with fire…pretty Nemu,' the Arrancar hissed, again turning his golden stare to her. 'Don't play…with me. Else I will pour each and every one of them down your throat.'

Nemu let out a little frightened yelp. 'No…'

'Yes,' Szayel Aporro continued, in the same kind tone. 'I imagine that would not be fun, given that these probably kill…every poison…everything your body is made of...eat it from the inside out… And then not even he…will be able to bring you back…now, tell me…which ones they are.'

_A bold gamble. I'd never kill you, pretty Nemu…No more than I'd kill myself._

The Vice Captain looked to the side, a single, crystal clear tear slipping down the side of her cheek. Her fingers drifted slowly over the belt, barely touching two vials. The Octava saluted her surrender with a pat on the shoulder, and Nemu yet again yelped helplessly and brought her knees to her chest. Szayel Aporro tasted both vials, having just a little of one, to immunize himself against whatever had hurt Lilinette – he passed the vial to her, and drank his own with small gulps, carefully not taking more than he needed.

Then, just as the child Arrancar darted back to her feet and took a giant breath, he chuckled, and adjusted his glasses, gracefully brushing his hair off his forehead.

'Welcome back, Perfect Being_._' Stark mockingly said, not taking his eyes off Kurosutchi. The Shinigami had not moved, and was intently watching him in his turn. 'Mind getting dressed now? You're offending Lilinette's sense of...eh,' he sighed, giving up. 'You're offending me.'

He'd barely finished the phrase when Kidou flames spread in the air around him, causing his reiatsu to become visible for a split second – as long as it took the giant, fanged mouth that surrounded the Espada opened its dark jaws, swallowing the spell. Correctly guessing that absorbing the kidou had made Stark lower his Hierro, Kurosutchi darted behind him, and, with speed surprising and unbecoming his bulky frame, dragged the trident across the Espada's back – each of the blades left a two inch deep imprint, cutting in easily, yet, to Kurosutchi's dismay, the flesh sealed itself as soon as the blade passed. There had not even been blood, just lines of darkness writing like worms on the surface of the skin they healed.

Displeased, but not discouraged, the Shinigami captain retreated to the side of the keypad, knocking the chair out of his way to give himself room; this time, he was ready for Lilinette, blocking her jump by placing his trident across his chest, and repelling her with the back of his hand. The white arrow darted away – for a moment, he thought she would have to slow down, as she was too far from any flat surface that could renew her momentum. Still, as Lilinette turned in the air, Stark appeared behind her, offering his forearm as support point. The girl's legs bent as her feet made contact with the Espada's arm, and she giggled, pushing herself forward.

'Point!' Lilinette laughed out loud, her shape seemingly faster than her voice. 'Second go!'

'Watch out for the shikai,' Stark instructed.

'Yada, yada, yada!' she responded – within a second, she was behind Kurosutchi, between the Shinigami and Szayel's keypad. Lilinette flipped herself so her hands, rather than her feet caught contact with the solid surface, and kicked the back of the Shinigami's head, aiming for the base of his neck. Kurosutchi had no time to react. The bone cracked, and his head lulled back, carried by the wheight of his mask. She darted away, thinking that the cackle she had just head was an illusion – the Shinigami's head hung on his shoulders like that of a broken rag doll, and he slipped to the floor. Yet, though it disappeared inside the folds of the kimono, the shikai did not dissolve.

Enchanted with her triumph, Lilinette did not notice the blue arrow; Stark did. With lazy, slow gestures, that were still fast enough to block the Quincy's attack, he came between her and the blue spirit particle lance, catching the Steele Schneider and snapping it in two in the same gesture.

'One at a time,' the Espada mused, as Lilinette landed beside him, frowning. 'One at a time, Uryu.'

* * *

Up next - Fights, insults and general mayhem ensue, and Renji gets himself in trouble with Lilinette. Again.

Also, part two of Szayel's riddle. You didn't think he let them turn on his machine just to hide Stark, now did you?If you did, Szayel is very disappointed in you.


	12. Aerodynamic

Warnings - as always when Lilinette is around, language, language, language. Lili's ability is my invention, of course. I dare Tito Kube to give her something cooler...No really, I do.

Many thanks to Maidros for reading this yesterday - I'll never know why you put up with me, pet :)

Chapter 12 - Where Renji sux!

* * *

Stark saw the red-haired Shinigami that stood beside the Quincy flexing his arm, and put his hand forward to intercept Zabimaru's flat edge, but the sword never reached him. The sharp, wide front blade simply froze against Szayel Aporro's wrist, the giant length of the steel whip tensed and humming oddly in the air between Renji and the Octava.

'Am I experiencing a slight déjà vu?' Szayel purred, tucking a soft strand of pink hair behind his ear. He was once again fully clothed, but he had not retrieved Fornicares. 'He will say 'Damn you!' now,' the Octava whispered, softly tilting his head to the side.

'Damn you!' Renji spat, and Stark laughed out loud.

'That was unexpected, vice-captain Abarai. You make my head spin,' Szayel sighed. He flicked the blade away, causing it to hiss dangerously to the side. 'And our Quincy! Suerte!' he shrieked in delight. 'I swear, life is a box of chocolates!'

'Could you be _more_ gay?' Lilinette chuckled, making Szayel frown briefly.

'Bastards!' Ishida hissed, his glance locked on Nemu's frail form. 'What have you done to her?'

'Eh, Uryu,' Stark began excusing himself, stepping up to Szayel Aporro's side. 'I tried. But she kept propping up, so…'

'It's not her fault,' Ishida furiously snapped. 'Kurosutchi controls her like a puppet whenever he is around!'

'Then, blame him, not me,' Stark muttered in return. Understanding that Kurosutchi was not dead, but merely incapacitated, and that the Shinigami that had just walked in was also a captain class, albeit not as powerful as the other, the Segunda nodded his head, and transported himself to the opposite corner of the laboratory, out of the new enemy's sight and earshot; Szayel and Lilinette promptly followed. 'Szayel,' he uttered, softly. 'What does Kurosutchi's shikai actually do?'

'It is coated in some nano-mechanic composite that imitates a neurotoxin,' the Octava explained, arching an eyebrow.

'…what kindda?' Lilinette perked, pulling on Szayel's tight sleeve. 'Do you ever talk like normal people?'

'Do you possess a brain?' Szayel sighed. 'How the ignorance of the world offends me! Did it touch you?' he asked, with mild concern, ignoring the Fracction.

'Yeah,' Stark conceded. 'I forgot my own not playing with one's food advice. Probably because he smells too putrid to eat.'

'Then, you may be slowed or even incapacitated for a while,' Szayel shrugged. 'It's not a spirit-based weapon, there is nothing you can do against it; it affects your human body, not your reiatsu. Nothing I can do against it either, or at least not on the spot, with these pests still infesting my laboratory.'

'Well, that is not the best news I've had,' Stark muttered.

'However, Stark…' Szayel began, slowly. 'I do not think it should make a difference to you. I am surprised you even _let_ him touch you. And no, Lilinette cannot take him. He would be deadly to her. Just in case that was what you were trying to assess,' he added slyly.

'I thought I was fighting against someone like you – all bark and no bite - so I lowered my guard,' the Segunda responded, with an icy glare; the Octava arched an eyebrow, to demonstrate he was neither convinced nor intimidated, and Stark sighed. 'You're right, she cannot take him.' he briefly conceded. 'I don't want to kill him, however, so watch yourself. I will explain later. Where's your sword?' he asked switching discourse before Szayel started to argue.

'He has her,' Szayel sighed, tilting his head in Kurosutchi's direction. 'But I don't need her, for the moment.'

'Oh?' Lilinette mused. She had always found the fact that Fornicares – what Stark called _the exceptional representation of a phalla…phallo…phallic! symbol_ - was female, sharply and unquestionably amusing.

'I just need to get to the machine,' the Octava snapped. 'So help me get to my panels before Kurosutchi gets up…'

'He's broken,' Lilinette smirked.

'No, he's not,' Stark and Szayel Aporro responded, in a single voice. The Fracction cranked her nose, but did not argue further and found that if she listened intently enough, she could hear him recovering too – hasty mechanical buzzing and unpleasant slithering reiatsu.

'I'll rapidly deal with the Quincy,' Stark said softly, measuring the two enemies with half closed eyes. 'All his weapons are reiatsu based, he cannot touch me even if I stand still. Can Lilinette keep up with the little Shinigami, Szayel Aporro?'

'With Abarai?' Szayel frowned. 'I assume so, he is quite injured. I would not go as far as thinking she can beat him, but…'

'Well, if _you_ beat him, I am sure I can pound him into mash…' she laughed.

'Your self confidence is distressful. He's a power-type and a captain class,' the Octava sighed. 'Though his lack of intelligence is most unfortunate, his body will learn to match your speed on its own.'

'Maybe I even get to see a Bankai,' Lilinette continued to chime, lending him no attention.

'Don't,' Stark cut in, frowning. 'Don't let him achieve his Bankai – be happy with keeping his shikai down. You've already shown me you can. I won't be long with the Quincy. Come on, Lilinette,' he added, distractedly ruffling the child's hair to curve her obvious disappointment. 'I am sure you will see more Bankai than you care to soon enough. What about the masked beauty, Szayel Aporro? He is beginning to stir.'

'I will need two minutes,' Szayel said. 'Do try _not_ to wreck anything; the laboratory is proofed against many things. Sadly, stupidity is not one of them.' he added, with an ugly scowl in Lilinette's direction. He then started his Sonido and vanished.

'Did ya notice how grateful he is?' Lilinette whispered. 'If he had thanked us one more time I would've been sick.'

'Indeed, he warms my absent heart,' Stark laughed. 'No provoking a Bankai, Lilinette. I'm serious.' He repeated, in a serious tone, as if reading her mind. 'You cannot face one yet.'

'Ya, ya. We'll see.' She answered, waving his words away before darting off.

'I'll be watching,' Stark whispered, mostly to himself; the Fracction did not need to hear what she already knew, anyway.

* * *

'What the hell is she?' Renji whispered to Ishida as Lilinette dropped from the ceiling, coming to stand six feet before him. She cracked her fingers, and grinned merrily, crossing her arms behind her back as if waiting for them to make the first move. 'How can a Vasto Lorde be in this shape?'

Understanding Renji's true doubts, Ishida frowned and remained silent; just like with Nel, the form of the Hollow was mentally incapacitating, even more so for a Shinigami, who believed that all the denizens of Hueco Mundo thoroughly deserved their place in it. Though Renji must have understood – and had, in fact, actually felt – that Lilinette posessed enough reiatsu to be quite dangerous, he could still not bring himself to see past the child. Rather than accept that one of his comrades had once judged her ghost and sent it to this place, Renji wanted to believe that it was all an elaborate deception.

'Do you think she has another true shape, and keeps herself in this form so she screws with my mind?' Renji stubbornly muttered.

'I don't think she is like this by choice, Abarai.' Ishida answered.

'Ei, ugly Shinigami!' she called, making both of them wince at the high pitched sound. 'Ya gonna come at me or what?'

'Get vice-captain Kurosutchi out of the way,' Renji muttered; the Quincy agreed, with a brief nod. 'Where did the other two get to?'

'I'm afraid we'll soon find out. Watch your back for Szayel Aporro,' Ishida warned, making him laugh.

'I'd think I should watch my back for the other one,' the Shinigami answered, running his hand over Zabimaru's blade, to wake him again.

'The other does not seem the kind that strikes from behind.' The archer hissed, before dashing away.

The Shinigami was ready for the speed of the blow, but not for its force; though her feet had connected with the forearm he'd crossed over his chest, Renji felt he was being pressed into the floor, the stone cracking under his feet. He tried to brush her away but she was already gone, she was already behind him; Lilinette barely touched the floor before punching him in the kidneys, and making him feel as if she'd just dislodged his spine. Zabimaru hissed in between them just in time to block another strike. The blade dented, taking the surprisingly clear imprint of her fingers – it was as if she had been made of hot metal.

Lilinette jumped out of the shikai's way, allowing the serrated blades to circle beneath her feet, at the height of Renji's waist. Catching the moment, the Shinigami grabbed hold of her foot, attempting to pull her down – the sole of the sandal tensed against his palm, and she pushed herself off, slipping between his fingers, bouncing on the wall and casually slapping him over the head as she floated over him.

Hundreds of colors erupted into Renji's mind, yet, he noted in surprise, none of them had the intensity that he had previously felt. She had not hit him in earnest.

'Damn you,' he hissed. 'You're playing with me!'

'Naaa,' the girl giggled, landing before him. 'Ya think?'

In the next second, her hands were lodged into his shoulders, and he felt himself lifted and helplessly spun in the air, above her head.

'Make Bankai.' Renji imagined he heard her whisper, before she slammed him into the floor, and stepped onto his chest, pressing all the air out of his body. This time, the explosion had been there, scalding metal coursing through Renji's arm and into the zanpakutoh's blade. He rolled to the side and rose to his feet within a flash, but Zabimaru was already transformed to its primary katana shape.

Renji looked down his arm in annoyance, and shook his shoulder – on command, the blade unwound and widened. Clearly dismayed, Lilinette danced close and grabbed his free arm twisting it around his back; she darted upwards. Understanding that if he did not follow the movement, she would rip his arm off his shoulder, Renji winced and jumped in his turn. Zabimaru ran by the side of her face, severing a strand of silver blonde hair.

'Make Bankai,' she whispered again, before the sword stubbornly dissolved. 'He knows I can handle your shikai already…make Bankai, so _he_ knows I can do better.'

She let go of his arm, propping her knee between his shoulders and kicking him down; Renji landed on his feet and rolled his aching shoulder back in place. He gritted his teeth, sweat rolling down his forehead, right arm tensed and lines of red energy dancing about the blade, charging, crackling as he called…to no avail.

_What the…_

'Bah,' she exclaimed, darting under his defenses and punching him in the chin before retreating again. 'No fun if you're so stubborn and slow…'

He spun, and hit her in the stomach with his eyes closed, the speed of his reflex catching even him by surprise – as if she had been made out of straw, Lilinette coiled and flew backwards.

There was no strength in her body, Renji understood. Only in the arms and the legs.

The back of her head hit the wall and bounced painfully forward, her eyelid fluttering and her gaze becoming unfocused; had she not been donning the mask, the hit would probably have shattered her skull. Not missing the opportunity, Renji clenched his teeth and sent Zabimaru against her. For a moment, when white silk flew between him and the half unconscious Arrancar, the Shinigami thought he had finally made her reveal her true from.

Yet, the Zanpakutoh's blade stopped abruptly against Szayel Aporro's wrist, sending painful vibrations into the Shinigami's elbow. He did not even have time to notice Stark's figure slipping behind the Octava – a crushing wall of reiatsu, harder and heavier than the side of a mountain, hit him and hurled him several feet back. The force of Stark's push barely made Szayel Aporro's hair sway.

'Slow reaction, Stark,' Szayel chuckled, not looking over his shoulder. 'I guess the poison is getting to you after all. How very _interesting._'

'I thought you had all the data on me already, Szayel Aporro,' Stark snarled into his ear.

They darted off in opposite directions, as Lilinette rose back to her feet.

* * *

Can you feel the love? If you can, it's odd, because there is none...

Immediately up next - the riveting conclusion of the long fight scene. Yeeeees, it does end.


	13. Equality

_For I hold no love of pride, and I hate lions,_

_I want equality - yet not for puppies._

_We always wish for equality with those above us. __Never with those below._

_--quotation from a Voltaire fable, brought up by the resident intellectuals in the fragment below._

I realize these two chapters are long, but they were truly meant to be read as one; I could not bring myself to break them apart.

Warnings - language, Szayel showing off, and finally, FINALLY! winning.

Chapter 13 - If you want something dead, well...

* * *

Behind Renji, and thinking himself blissfully forgotten by all, Ishida stealthily made his way to Nemu's side; he quickly ascertained that, aside for the wound in her leg, she was all right, and gently attempted to lift her in his arms. The young woman fidgeted and powerfully rejected his hands, her eyes barely open and her gaze distant.

'No,' she said softly. 'Mayuri-sama…I need to help…'

'You cannot help him, Nemu' Ishida kindly responded, brushing her hair away from her face. 'You can barely help yourself now.'

'I need to help…' she whispered, as if in a trance – then, her eyes widened, and she let out a little shriek. Surprised, Ishida turned his head to find Stark standing over them.

The Quincy reflexively materialized his bow, and fired – he was within a foot of the enemy, yet, just as before, the spirit energy dissipated in mid-air, erased by a single lazy wave of the Espada's fingers. Stark did not move away; he did not even blink.

'I am not going to stop you if you want to get her out, kid,' he said kindly. 'Just…do get her out. I cannot keep my word if she crosses me.'

'Mayuri-sama,' Nemu insisted, her eyes still wide and completely unfocused. She looked as if she had been having a waking nightmare, her pretty face contorted in terror, and her fingers mercilessly gripping the Quincy's arm. Torn between the desire of getting Nemu out, and the solid pangs of fear that the Espada's mere presence instilled, Ishida kept his eyes on Stark, alert for anything that might have looked even remotely threatening. Much to the archer's surprise, the Espada measured Nemu with a thoughtful glance, looking slightly taken aback and regretful.

'She is not…_real_' Stark said, leaning even further in, and ignoring the Quincy's gasp. 'She smells fake, contrived, but most of all she smells like…like…Szayel Aporro?' the Segunda frowned, in confusion. 'Ah,' he added, within a second, smirking in revulsion. 'Fornicares.'

Ishida nodded.

'That's a disgusting little habit,' Stark said, shaking his head. 'I wonder how she survived it…'

'Her captain healed…repaired…her,' Ishida answered, swallowing dry. 'Will you truly let me get her out, before you fight me?'

'I would rather not fight you at all; my non-confrontational mood has not dissipated, and it is still not five.' Stark shrugged. 'But if you insist, it can be done. The captain's strange weapon slowed me down just enough for you to be an amusing two minute encounter, instead of an instantly squashed little insect. From my perspective, however, you should go before testing your luck, Uryu – I have plans for the two Shinigami, but you and the gigai you so wish to save will not be useful to me in negotiating with the Gotei.'

'Negotiating with the Gotei?' Ishida breathed. 'What for?'

'Menial things,' Stark shrugged. 'How do you call them? Eternal un-life, liberty, and the pursuit of eating lesser Hollows.'

Lilinette bounced off the wall above them, Zabimaru's blade hot on her trail; still, as she hissed above them, her fingers briefly brushed against Stark's shoulder, and the man smiled.

The Quincy bit his lip, distantly acknowledging Renji's struggles – Szayel Aporro was nowhere in sight. Lilinette's reiatsu burned bright now, as well; it seemed like so far she had kept it in check, but that now she was attacking in earnest. Renji must have sense the same thing, for he was desperately dodging each and every attack, as if he had been frightened of the mere touch of the girl.

'Abarai is my friend,' the Quincy uttered softly. 'I cannot let you hold him hostage.'

Stark smirked.

'You have too many friends, Uryu. You make my attempt at _captatio benevolentiae_ truly complicated. I notice you have no such feelings for the other…'

'Kurosutchi killed my grandfather,' the Quincy said, in a frozen tone. 'He's more an enemy to me than you are. You can do with him…'

Nemu's hand lodged in his throat, her fingers pressing his windpipe flat and fingernails digging into his skin; he had looked down at her in fright, but although her lips had parted, she had made no sound. Instead, to Ishida's horror, Mayuri's insane cackled had resounded from the opposite side of the laboratory.

'Speak more,' Kurosutchi had hissed, slithering upwards; his head still hung limply on his shoulder, but his eyes were shining and his arm had fully regenerated. 'Speak more, Quincy…'

'Ca…captain Kurosutchi,' Renji breathed in his turn, not knowing whether to be relieved or disgusted. He let his guard down, but Lilinette was equally fascinated with watching Kurosutchi's head slip eerily back into place, as if a mechanical wrench had been slowly hoisting it up.

'What is the matter, Ishida Uryu?' the captain snickered, his head finally snapping into place. It rotated twice, swiftly, then became fixated with a little click. 'Each word of yours will go to the Captain Commander, and each word will see that you are finally declared our enemy – so speak! Don't tell me that my little Nemu is holding you back.'

'If you find it is so, you could just stab her, and get her off you for a bit,' he offered proudly, taking a step forward. 'You will see, I have improved her a lot since your last meeting. Unless you crush her head, she can endlessly keep going.'

'Wow, Szayel Aporro, he's even more fucked up than you are,' Lilinette whispered.

'I do not believe so,' the darkness around them snapped back, in Szayel's voice. He'd clearly taken the words for an insult.

'Nemu,' Ishida mouthed, hot tears streaming down his face. His bow had trembled, but he stubbornly kept it still. 'Let go, Nemu, please…'

'I want to,' the girl whispered in return, and Stark noticed she was crying, only tears, without sound or sobs – just mute, frantic pain. 'I want to, Uryu, but I cannot…'

The Espada lowered himself on one knee to meet Nemu's glance.

'You will kill him within a minute,' Stark noted, slowly. Ishida was growing deathly pale, while her clenched nails drew blood from his throat.

'I know, I know, I know…' the Shinigami whimpered. 'Stop me…' she pleaded, with Ishida, or the Espada, her gaze darting from one to the other, deep, dark and frighteningly, desperately alive.

'Don't hurt her,' Ishida managed to breathe, his gaze locked on to Stark's. He dispelled his bow, pressing his fingers against the Espada's wrist. 'Don't…'

'Captain Kurosutchi,' Renji uttered, turning around in shock, 'you cannot be serious…'

'Just watch me, boy,' Kurosutchi snarled. 'Did you not hear him speaking, vice-captain Abarai? He was about to betray me – me! And thus the Gotei – to the enemy…'

'But captain Kurosutchi…' Renji pleaded, fully turning around. 'Ishida has fought at our side…'

'Are you questioning _my _judgment, vice-captain?' Mayuri thundered. 'For the sake of a Quincy?'

Renji's shoulders drooped, and his sword arm sunk low, letting Zabimaru's tip slip to the floor. He lifted his eyes to meet Lilinette's gaze – when he did, he found that, much like himself, the Fracction had lost all mood to fight.

'Eh, for the love of God, too many sentimental effusions give me insomnia.' the Segunda sighed. 'I see your point about this guy, Quincy.' He resolutely caught Nemu's wrist between his index and middle finger, effortlessly crushing the bones flat and freeing Ishida, who promptly jumped to his feet and retreated several feet. Though she had cried out in pain, Nemu had looked grateful; the Espada had not given himself time to analyze the sight.

'Your bankai, vice captain' Kurosutchi ordered, dryly, but, for Renji, it was already too late. Lilinette darted upwards, finding Stark's shoulder as support point for her change of direction. Renji turned, but his parry was hopelessly slow; the girl's extended palm was pressed on his forehead before he could even acknowledge her presence – the touch had carried no force, and she had shifted position in mid air, clearly avoiding a serious strike, but nonetheless making use of her ability. The lance yet again exploded in Renji's mind, and Zabimaru helplessly dissolved into his simplest shape.

'How pitiful,' Kurosutchi snarled, brushing Renji out of his way with the back of his wrist, and taking three wide steps forward. 'You are all well and truly useless…Hm,' he said, suddenly stopping, and tilting his head to look at Stark and Lilinette. 'I do not see my friend and comrade, Szayel Aporro…Where did he get to?'

'Look behind ya,' Lilinette chimed.

'How would he have gotten behind me, girl, I felt nothing…' Mayuri scolded, in a mockingly kind tone.

'You have a lot to learn about Sonido,' Stark answered, slowly stepping forth in his turn. Frowning, Kurosutchi spun on himself, as did Renji; indeed, Szayel Aporro had been standing behind them, leaning on the keypad. The Octava took a theatrical little bow, and re-adjusted his mask.

'Howl, Zabimaru!' Renji shouted, without waiting for Kurosutchi's prompt. The recalled shikai split the air, menacingly heading for the Octava's frail form, but though Szayel had prepared for the block, it was Mayuri Kurosutchi's slap across Renji's wrist to steer the blow off course.

'Wow,' Kurosutchi sneered, 'you really are dumb. Have you not grasped by now that…'

'…a mere shikai cannot hurt an Espada?' Szayel completed for him. 'Quite so – so please, feel free to call your bankai, if you must. Or are you _now_ ready to admit you can't call it?'

'Damn you!' Renji spat; Szayel Aporro had whispered the words at the same time, then let out a bored sigh.

'A three day course with Lilinette could teach you some mildly interesting insults. Or at least some new ones,' he shrugged, before theatrically spinning about, to face his panels.

'Verona,' Szayel called, looking straight into the board.

The instrument hissed blankly for a few seconds.

'Verona, if you're sleeping, there'll be hell!' he called again. Then, the round, toothy face of the Fracction, depicting as much shock as its overly simple features allowed, appeared on the screen.

'Szayel Aporro-sama!' it shrieked, in obvious terror. 'I thought you were dead!'

'Your confidence in me brings tears to my eyes,' Szayel snapped. 'Have the new sensor readings from the laboratory fed into the analytics model?'

'Errrr…I…think…so,' Verona answered, shakily. 'When the panel was given Neliel Tu's reiatsu, the model started, so it should have processed everything…'

Kurosutchi frowned.

'…automatically.'

'Good,' Szayel grinned. 'That's all.'

'Y-yes, Szayel Aporro-sama.' Verona sighed, in obvious relief. It was short lived, however.

'Verona?'

Honey and strawberries in his voice.

'Y-yes?'

'Get over here.'

'A-are you hurt, Szayel Aporro-sama?' the creature asked in resignation.

'Not really. But I am very, very hungry.'

He clicked away the creature in mid-scream, and turned to Kurosutchi, taking delight in the confused look on his features. Szayel Aporro laughed.

'And thus, the plot turns again, Kurosutchi Mayuri,' he said, in a soft chuckle. 'For one final time, and in my favor.'

'What do you think you have accomplished, Arrancar?' the Shinigami snapped, feeling mildly unnerved.

'Me?' Szayel courteously asked. 'Nothing. It was you all the way, Shinigami. I am, actually, quite grateful.'

Pressing his lips together dangerously, Kurosutchi attempted to get closer; the invisible shield of Stark's reiatsu held him in place. Beside him, Renji was panting heavily, his entire body crushed under the same pressure.

'Your stereotypical thinking was your undoing,' Szayel explained, softly. 'You actually thought I did not want you to power up the machine – when, in fact, I wanted nothing else. And your little gigai, she was…wonderful. She did everything in sequence; she hardly even needed any prompt from me. Of course,' the Arrancar sighed, 'if she had not been as bright as she is, I would have told her how to power up my panels myself. In due time, of course. As is, however, when you put the last key into the machine, this place,' he said, gracefully lifting his palms to indicate the room around him, 'became a reiatsu tomb. All the previously designed suppressors fell in place – I am even surprised vice-captain Abarai could materialize his shikai.'

'Ridiculous!' Mayuri blurted.

'In the absence of Fornicares, this,' Szayel laughed, his hand drifting affectionately over the keys, 'is my most powerful weapon. But you were too worried about controlling your Fracction to even consider the notion. What were you thinking, Kurosutchi Mayuri? That I was actually imagining I would use _her_ against you? That would, indeed, be ridiculous.'

'Enough,' the Shinigami grunted. 'You could not have been planning this since the beginning…'

'Since the beginning?' Szayel Aporro honestly shrugged. 'No. I started planning this when your pretty Nemu actually reminded me that I am, indeed, perfect, and that there is nothing that _you_, who cannot kill me, can do to win against me. And since you could not win, it just makes sense that I do. I hate games that end in a draw,' he sighed, pressing his small gloved hand over the center of his chest. 'I am very bad with the suspense.'

'Then I shall not keep you any longer,' the Shinigami snarled. 'Bankai.'

He extended his arm to the side, allowing the trident to swell. The sword's handle melted between his fingers, as the trident's teeth grew, expanding forwards, then outwards, to form the limbs caterpillar like body. For a single second, the gigantic, sinister doll was contained by the Stark's reiatsu, making the shield appear physical; it began creeping outwards over the top, like yeast fermenting over the edge of a jar, before the Segunda let go, allowing the massive, bloated infant head to emerge in all its disgusting detail and size, hovering above them and spewing forth its white, deadly fumes. Ishida and Renji instinctively covered their faces, and Stark raised an eyebrow, in obvious disgust.

Szayel adjusted his glasses.

'Happy with seeing your first Bankai release, Lilinette?' he asked, his hair whipping at his sharp cheekbones.

'Ya,' the girl shouted, to cover the deafening creaking of the golden doll. 'But it's ugly as shit! Even Fornicares is prettier! And _she _doesn't stink nearly as much!'

'Hey, don't interrupt Szayel's intellectual masturbation,' Stark grinned, playfully knocking on the top of her mask. 'Let him enjoy this.'

'Shall we make it go away now?' Szayel asked again. 'You are right, for once, Lilinette, it is ugly as shit.'

He leaned back, soft pink tresses against ecstatic, pale features, and pressed a key without even looking over his shoulder. The doll hissed, it shrieked, moaned, contorting as if hundreds of hammers had been knocking on its surface, each hit denting it, ever so slightly, each hit making it smaller, crumpling it into a fist size golden trinket, that finally vanished into thin air.

Then, there was silence; the half broken blade of Ashizogi Jizo materialized apologetically in the Shinigami's hand.

'What?' Kurosutchi articulated. 'What have you done?'

'Again,' Szayel snickered, 'it was not me. I explained, clearly, what my processors do – I _told_ you that the third key makes the analytic models run. But you put Verona's reiatsu in nonetheless – even more, you put in Neliel's, making sure that the trap sealed shut, and that I could modify the walls. What did you assume my models do? Chew in vain? Quite on the contrary – from the moment my panels came alive, they ran over all your reiatsu, they turned it inside out, and learned how to counter it, on their own. Because, unlike you, I am not afraid of making things that are brighter than myself. I am not that immature. In conclusion, I have already analyzed all your abilities, Kurosutchi Mayuri.'

'Don't grind your teeth, Shinigami,' Szayel breathed, slipping his glasses upwards on his nose. 'It's such an annoying sound.'

Briskly turning around, Mayuri struck an odd pose, legs stretched oddly in the air for a second, as if he'd been trying to hit a gymnastics position. Lilinette bent over laughing.

'Oh,' Szayel added, with a little apologetic shrug. 'Since I have not had a chance to refine it, the suppressor also cancels your Shumpo abilities. Brutal, but effective.'

The Octava had no time to enjoy his triumph; in the blink of an eye, Nemu was upon him, her still unhurt forearm crushing his neck in an inescapable wrench; the other hand hung limply by her hip, twisted oddly inwards, at an unnatural angle. Her grip was solid and painful, turning Szayel Aporro's pointy chin to the right to the point of breaking – he laughed.

'Kill him, Nemu,' Kurosutchi barked. 'Kill him…'

'No, pretty Nemu, don't kill me,' Szayel Aporro snickered; though his breath came out in cut off, painful gasps, a delicate gesture of his fingers kept the other Arrancar from intervening. Instead of trying to escape the young woman's grasp, Szayel Aporro allowed his head to fall softly on her shoulder, pink strands mixing casually with the sleek darkness of Nemu's hair.

Ishida jumped forward.

…_she smells like…like…Szayel Aporro…_

…_Fornicares fuses with everything it touches…_

…_don't kill me, pretty Nemu…_

…_until your pretty Nemu reminded me that I am, indeed, perfect…_

…_I am perfect…_

'Nemu, don't,' the Quincy cried, crashing painfully against Stark's still raised defenses.

'Kill. Him.' Mayuri repeated, each of his words a lash – Ishida grunted in pain, pressing his flesh against the cutting fangs of Stark's reiatsu. Blood stained his white uniform crimson, yet the Quincy did not stop.

'No, Nemu!' he cried. 'Please, Nemu, don't…Resist him…'

'Let Uryu through,' Lilinette breathed, suddenly grasping Stark's arm. 'Let him through, he will tear himself apart…'

Translucently white over Nemu's dark skin, Szayel Aporro's fingers crept upwards on her neck, carelessly separating a strand of her hair from her braid, then delicately running across her parted lips.

'Think,' he whispered, 'soul-splinter. Think. I genuinely do not want to hurt you again.'

'Kill him,' Kurosutchi ordered.

'…you know the answer, Nemu,' Szayel affectionately whispered. 'You told it to me yourself. You just failed to make the right correlation.'

Stark frowned, lowering the defenses, and allowing the Quincy to go through; her head turned towards Ishida, Nemu whimpered, painfully trying to writhe herself away from Mayuri's control.

'_He makes sure I survive everything_, you said.' The Octava continued. '_He will make sure you survive everything, too_….It was not thoroughly correct, Nemu-chan. It is _because_ you survived that I would survive too.'

'Fuck,' Renji cursed, in sudden understanding; the young woman's eyes widened in terror as the Arrancar's words coursed into her ear, sweet and slow as the honey in his eyes.

'Nemu, let him go,' Ishida pleaded.

'I think the Quincy likes you,' the Octava breathed. 'That is so…sweet…' he snickered, without spite. 'If you kill me, Nemu-chan' Szayel followed, 'I will use Gabriel on you _again. _You were not meant to survive it the first time, but you did – Fornicares is still in your blood, _I_ am still in your blood. And since now I have the antidotes to all the poisons in your body, the only thing that will happen if you do kill me is that for a brief moment, your maker will regain his Shumpo, and he will give himself a chance of getting away.'

Nemu looked away, her glance locking on to Ishida's. She'd tried to pull herself away from the Arrancar, whimpering as she pointlessly attempted to lean on the wounded leg.

'Don't listen to them, Nemu,' Mayuri snapped, taking a wide stride forward. 'Obey me. Kill him.'

'If you kill me, I will use you to resurrect myself. I will win, whatever happens,' Szayel cooed. 'He will get the chance of claiming a draw. The only one who will lose is you, Nemu-chan.'

_You've already shown me you possess vanity. Now show me you possess enough capacity to hate._

'He would have you suffer again, just for the chance of getting himself away,' Ishida whispered, drawing closer until his fingers could reach Nemu's arm, and start prying it away from the Arrancar's twisted neck. 'Please, Nemu. Don't. I cannot watch him kill you again…'

_Or love. Nuances of the same pointless waste of energy._

Ishida's plea made Nemu's conditioning falter for a second, a mere second – but it was just enough. The Quincy managed to pull her away, peeling her off Szayel Aporro and moving her a mere nine feet before his strength failed. Nine feet that felt like thousands of miles. Deprived of his shadow step, Kurosutchi Mayuri was no match for the Octava's Sonido.

Effortlessly, Szayel knocked Mayuri onto his back, and pressed his slim knee on the Shinigami captain's chest.

And now, Szayel Aporro thought, feeling pleasure more intense than any of the many odd sexual climaxes he had experienced in his life, Kurosutchi Mayuri was really terrified.

'Yet, I've learned something from you, Shinigami-kun,' the Octava snickered, running his fingers though his hair. He leaned in, honey seeping into gold as he leaned in to enjoy the look in Kurosutchi's eyes. 'It was a very important lesson. I've learned that if you want something dead, you should fucking kill it straight away.'

'Szayel Aporro, what the hell did I tell you…' Stark said, taking a step forward.

'Mayuri-sama!' Nemu shrieked, desperately trying to brush Ishida's protective embrace aside.

Renji tried vainly to unwind his blade.

None of it mattered. Slowly, Szayel Aporro pressed the finger of his right hand between Kurosutchi's eyes.

'Gran Rey Cero, you arrogant idiot,' Szayel said, carefully articulating each syllable. Then, the room was bathed in blinding pink light.

'Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting!' he shrieked, jumping back from the greenish ooze that is Cero had reduced Kurosutchi to; Szayel pried Fornicares away from the slithering remains of the Shinigami captain, but did not take the time to wipe her off until he jammed his little fist into the side of his key panel.

Four tall glass containers sprouted forth from the floor and four caps emerged from the ceiling, capturing the writhing green mass, Renji, and growing implacably between Ishida and Nemu. In perfect sequence, the four sealed containers drifted to align themselves along the wall.

Stark raised an eyebrow.

'I thought you said – No Cero in the laboratory,' Lilinette maliciously mused.

'My bloody lab, my bloody rules. Equality is not for puppies,' Szayel Aporro answered, dryly; his time, it was Stark's turn to snicker.

'Voltaire,' he said, to Lilinette's questioning glance. 'Never mind.'

* * *

Up next, in a couple of days - Ishida and Lilinette have a heart to heart chat. So do Stark and Szayel Aporro, but there is much less heart there...

Thanks for all the comments, they make my day, every day :)


	14. Strange Bedfellows

Warnings - I get tired of saying this, language, language, language. Also, contains an interpretation over the evolution of Hollows that may or may not be canonically correct. Yet, since we all know my story is heading into the green fields of AU, please indulge me. If, however, you find it illogical and not just AU, by all means, _spank_ me, and I shall argue my points.

Also, in the interest of giving my children time to plot, I have placed Orihime in her chambers, and added an extra few hours to the regular manga flow. Thanks to VampireCabbit for bringing this up, I had forgotten to mention it.

Thank all for reading, commenting and thinking enough about it to critique - always most welcome.

Chapter 14 - Did we say Szayel was gay?

* * *

'I can't believe he's still alive,' Lilinette said, addressing no one in particular. She cranked her nose and looked at the green ooze that writhed inside the container.

'He's not real,' Ishida answered softly; the archer leaned his head back on the glass, and brought his knees to his chest. Beside him, Renji was still pointlessly kicking and shoving at the walls of the container; he had almost dulled Zabimaru's edge, by hitting him against the seemingly unbreakable material. The only thing he had succeeded in doing had been making Szayel Aporro cut off the sound that came out of the recipient, and let him struggle in eerie silence. To his other side, Nemu had curled in fetal position, cradling her broken wrist to her chest and staring expressionlessly at Mayuri's remains. She'd given the Quincy no attention, although she could hear him, and Ishida had to wonder if Mayuri's voice still echoed inside her brain, scolding her and promising punishment for the split second in which her own survival instincts had proven stronger than his conditioning.

Not that it mattered, now, the Quincy thought, closing his eyes. He should have taken the opportunity of escaping when it had been offered…Judging by Szayel Aporro's flush of hyperactivity around his panels, that door had already slammed shut. Thankfully, in a way that Ishida found disturbingly predictable, Szayel had retreated to change his clothes, and Stark had followed him into the side room, dragging his feet, leaving the four prisoners under Lilinette's watchful pink eye.

'What do ya mean, not real?' Lilinette frowned, sitting on the floor before the Quincy, with her legs crossed. 'He looked real enough…'

'His reiatsu is real,' Ishida answered. 'His body is not. I think it is some sort of gigai, maybe multiple gigai, that he controls from a distance. Whenever he gets defeated, truly defeated, he turns into…that,' he said, indicating the ooze. 'Then he slithers back, and probably crawls inside another gigai.'

'How d'ya know that?' she honestly wondered.

'I defeated him before,' Ishida responded. He closed his eyes, remaining silent for a few minutes.

'Your Shinigami friend is gonna hurt himself really bad if he keeps hitting himself like that,' Lilinette started, after a while, and Ishida thought he could distinguish a minute trace of satisfaction in her voice, an odd, deeply hateful vibration. She leaned back on her arms and extended her feet. 'Not that I give a shit, but it's kinddof annoying to watch. He's like a giant red haired cockroach.'

'His name is Abarai Renji, and he's not a bad guy.' the Quincy replied. 'Lilinette?'

'Ya,' she chimed.

'Do you really, indiscriminately, hate them _all_ that much?'

'Look at how I ended up. Wouldn't you?' the girl snapped, her rounded eye suddenly narrowing to the size of a sword's edge; the sudden change in her demeanor had been so strong that it had caused a surge of reiatsu and made the walls of the Quincy's prison vibrate. 'Sorry,' she said, wobbling her feet. 'Shouldn't yell at ya, you're not one of 'em.'

'But I'm their ally…'

'That's all right, this is a war.' Lilinette shrugged. 'Politics and wars make strange bedfellows.'

The pronouncement should have sounded artificial, coming from her lips, but it did not. It did not feel as if it was something she had heard, and now mechanically repeated – she truly understood the words and their cynical meaning. Ishida frowned.

'How old are you, Lilinette?' he asked, making her giggle.

'Before or after Hueco Mundo?' the Fracction winked. 'Before I was thirteen, I think. I don't remember much about it. I remember a lot of pain and dying, mostly.' She added, in a soft echo, looking at her sandals. 'After, I am two hundred and sixty…something,' she answered simply, making him gasp. 'Don't really remember all my time as an Adjucha, either, it comes and goes. But I assume I am that old because Stark knows his age, and I always remember him being around me. Even before Aizen. Even when I was a dumb little Hollow.'

'Are all of you that old?' Ishida inquired.

'No, not really. Szayel Aporro is really young as Hollows go, he is barely fifteen, but he came directly as a Vasto Lorde He just _was,_ and never truly evolved – I don't think he can, or maybe not just yet, which is why he makes all of this stuff too keep up with the rest of 'em. Must have been a really _good_ guy on the other side as well,' Lilinette giggled.

'Ya see,' the young girl explained, 'most souls don't turn up here with the awareness of what they've done in their human life. That's why most Hollows are just dumb, like say, the Menos. As Hollows get older and stronger, they become aware of themselves and grow smart, ya know? Most Adjuchas have memories of their Hollow existence, but either they don't remember their human lives. The Vasto Lorde are the only ones who remember everything in their human life, and have the complete understanding of what they have done to deserve their place here. And then, once they do understand, acceptance makes them evolve…'

'…and fully embrace their evil,' Ishida breathed, making her frown.

'I wouldn't wanna jump to the conclusion that acceptance of one's past mistakes is the same as fully embracing your evil,' Lilinette said, tilting her pretty face to the side and cranking her nose a bit. 'I'd call it not being pointlessly held back by things ya can no longer fix. Sorta like I am.'

'I thought only Vasto Lorde could have fully formed human bodies,' Ishida shrugged.

'Does my body look fully formed to ya?' the Fracction sighed straightening her shoulders to offer her tiny, barely covered chest as an example, and making the archer blush violently. 'Na, my evolution into this shape was forced by the Hongyaku; just like many of the others I was an Adjucha before the Shinigami came. Stark told Aizen to make me, and he did. Was a bit pissed at him in the beginning, to be honest…'she muttered. 'Maybe if he had waited a little I would have come out all grown up and not so…in between.'

'That could have taken centuries,' the Quincy said, wondering where all the kindness in his voice had come from. 'It's hard to understand and accept your punishment if you have done nothing wrong…'

'Does it seem like we're running outta time?' the girl asked, ironically pursing her lips. 'In any event', she said, thoughtfully, not giving him time to react, 'Barragan is almost a thousand…'

'Barragan?' the Quincy echoed.

'The Primera,' the girl shrugged. 'Halibel is around a hundred, Grimmjow is also quite young. Never really wondered about the rest of them…Aaroniero was the oldest. Fuck knows how old he was…One of you killed him a short while ago, so I guess it doesn't matter anymore.' she added, dreamily glancing to the side.

Ishida could do nothing but shake his head at the list of names he did not know.

'All of them Espada?' he asked; Lilinette nodded.

They looked at each other in silence for a few minutes, then Ishida's attention drifted to Nemu, who had changed position and whimpered slightly.

'I'll ask Verona to fix her,' Lilinette said, guessing Ishida's thoughts. 'Verona's really good at that sort of stuff – maybe that's why Szayel Aporro never eats her, only likes to freak her out. Wouldn't look good if we let her lie in there like that…'

'Wouldn't look good to whom?' the Quincy asked with a frown. The girl giggled, and jumped to her feet.

'To your Shinigami friends. The yukky bastard in there did not come to Hueco Mundo alone, there's four more like him roaming about. And if we're gonna do what Stark wants to do, we gotta talk to them first. Though I'd rather kick them,' she admitted, innocently. 'Gonna get Verona. Yo, chill in there!' she shrilled, turning around and kicking Renji's transparent cell. The glass vibrated powerfully, but did not break.

'Ow, ow, ow, what the fuck does he make this shit out of?' she cursed, hopping on one foot, while massaging her toes. Temporarily distracted by her mishap, Renji laughed and pointed, and she stuck out her tongue at him. 'Now Verona has something else to fix,' Lilinette muttered, limping away. 'And no,' the girl laughed, sensing Ishida's eyes on her back, 'I'm not gonna tell you what Stark wants to do yet. We need to wait and see if this war will make even stranger bedfellows, first.'

* * *

'So?'

Hurried noises of shuffled cloth and high pressure liquids running did not imply in any way that Szayel Aporro had any hurry in leaving his humongous walk in closet. Quite to the contrary, it seemed to imply the exact opposite, and Stark yawned. In fact, the snappy, dry question that had been the first and only word spoken in the twenty minutes since Szayel had disappeared behind the tall, white doors.

'Hm?' Stark returned, in an equally wordy manner. He leaned against a small dressing table, and sleepily analyzed the objects that were carefully arranged on top of it – things that did not belong in a bedroom: fragments of circuit boards, neatly stacked into wire frames, two racks of small vials containing what looked like Arrancar flesh samples, tweezers, screwdrivers, a microscope, books, notebooks, a single, short, too often sharpened pencil, chewed on at the end…Not a single comb, Stark noted distractedly. Not a single mirror.

'So, what do you want? You are in my private chamber and I do not recall asking you in…'

More shuffling of cloth ensued.

'I want to speak to you without a captive audience,' the Segunda shrugged. 'Since you insisted on having one…'

He imagined he heard Szayel huffing at his wordplay, in thoroughly theatrical dismay, and crossed his arms over his chest. It was another twenty minutes before either of them spoke again.

'What _are_ you doing in there?' Stark asked, in mild irritation – contrary to popular belief, being kept waiting was not one of his favorite pastimes.

'Cleaning myself,' the Octava answered, dryly.

'There is not enough of you to clean that thoroughly, Szayel Aporro.'

'Trust me, there is.' The answer had come in a voice that Stark would rather have expected from Grimmjow, a low, menacing growl rather than the Octava's normal, smooth purr.

'Will you survive whatever happened to you?' Stark asked, not even feigning interest.

'Yes,' Szayel answered, briefly. The Segunda did not ask anything further. 'Don't I always?' Szayel inquired, this time in his regular, honey filled tone. He finally walked out of his closet, oddly enough wearing nothing extravagant – a simple, clean version of his regular uniform. Fornicares' hilt and scabbard were gleaming clean as well, the wooden surface so perfectly polished that it mirrored every speck of light. 'Don't lean against that,' the Octava snapped, finally taking note of Stark's posture. Though he had attempted to sound angry, he had only managed to sound concerned, and it had been the surprising undertone rather than the command itself to make Stark stand away from the dressing table.

'There are only seven of us left,' Stark said, waiving the introduction. 'There should have been six left, but you got lucky.'

'Oh, did I?' Szayel asked, running his gloved fingers through his hair, and protectively slithering between Stark and his dressing table. The Segunda drew a step back, finding the other man's physical proximity too much to bear. 'Who else kicked the proverbial bucket? Aside Aaroniero, of course.'

'LeRoux, for one' Stark answered, sleepily. 'Fortunately for the Exequias, there won't be any additional mess to clean up, because he died in Aaroniero's tower. How very nice of him, do you not find? I never even knew they were on such friendly terms that they would visit each other.'

'We are not friends either, and you're in my bedroom.' Szayel answered, gracefully placing one hand on the side of the table, and leaning the other on his hip.

'I doubt anyone who has ever passed through your bedroom has been a friend to you, Szayel Aporro,' Stark returned, with a knowing smirk, and the Octava emitted a little chuckle.

'And?' he prompted. 'What are we trying to imply, hmm? That we know how to count _dead _sheep as well?'

'We are implying nothing,' Stark answered, turning away. 'We are _stating_ that three Espada are dead. Another is a prisoner to the Shinigami…'

'Who is a prisoner?' the pink-haired Arrancar inquired, this time in genuine surprise.

'Grimmjow.'

'I find that notion extremely hard to stomach,' Szayel Aporro flatly refuted.

'Yes, well, at least one thing you find hard to stomach then,' Stark grinned. 'He fought, he was defeated and he was near death. His reiatsu almost vanished; now it is back at full strength, but it is being artificially constrained - he has not moved, and there are several Shinigami reiatsu in the area, three of them captain class. What does this tell you?'

Szayel waved his hand, dismissing the other Arrancar's logic as inconsequential – still, his eyes became hazy behind the thick frames, a clear sign that he'd been searching for reiatsu patterns in his turn.

'I notice Ulquiorra is not present either,' he said, after a while, not bothering to argue about Grimmjow's whereabouts. 'Did someone finally step on his little coat tails?'

'Grimmjow did, and, as consequence, Ulquiorra is now blissfully relaxing in the Sexta's Caja Negation.'

'More nonsense,' the Octava answered, this time laughing out loud. 'It would take Ulquiorra less than two hours to make his way back out of the Sexta's, and I last sensed him when I was still fighting Abarai, which was at least seven hours ago.'

'Odd, that. Maybe he is waiting for he cleaning to be over.' Stark noted, adding no further comment. 'Your one true _friend,_ Nnoitra also finally got what he was always looking for. Are you happy for him, Szayel Aporro?' The Segunda's glance became cutting. 'I would assume so, since you were always so prompt in helping Nnoitra achieve his goals.'

'What do you want, Stark?' Szayel asked, his upper lip curled in open threat, revealing his perfect dentition. 'I assume that you are not wasting your precious sleeping time just to brief me on what has come to pass in the few hours in which I have been absent; Aizen-sama will doubtlessly do that himself, when I report back in…'

'My only curiosity, Szayel Aporro, relates to when exactly Aizen sent you out against the Shinigami vice-captain.Was it before or after he called us all in and pompously, explicitly told us to stay in our quarters?'

'And when I do report back in,' Szayel added, as if he had not heard Stark's question, 'I will make sure that I thank him for the perfect little irony of having sent _you_ of all people to retrieve me. How it must gall you…' he maliciously snickered. To Stark, it was almost too easy.

'He didn't send me to retrieve you, Perfect Being. He sent you out expecting you to die, just like he did everyone else but Ulquiorra. And when you didn't, he let you suffer. Just as he probably expects Grimmjow to suffer.'

Szayel's pink, perfectly shaped eyebrows furrowed for a single second before the mask, the true mask fell back into place, and he tilted his head to the side languorously.

'Now, that is…how shall I call this little lie?' the Octava uttered sweetly, glancing at Stark with his eyelids half closed. 'Ah, indeed. _Cheap.'_

'Everyone else that Aizen has sent out is dead, Szayel Aporro,' the Segunda said. 'And not an hour ago, he sent me out to retrieve Inoue Orihime from right under the nose of the thing that killed Nnoitra.'

'The thing that is more shamelessly loud than you are?'

'That thing,' Stark answered dryly. 'Unfortunately for Aizen-_sama_, I don't possess the animal drive of measuring my manhood against everything in my path, so I did not challenge it. I simply got the girl and brought her back to her chambers, then went and told Aizen to fetch her himself when he will need her... Seeing me return made Gin stop grinning. Very shortly, but it was nonetheless gratifying.'

'If I had fought the creature they sent me against, I would be dead. So…Let us draw some conclusions. I, the skeptic, should be dead,' the Segunda continued, slowly, allowing the words to sink into Szayel's mind. 'Grimmjow, the open rebel, should be dead. Aaroniero was too weak – only a Gillian in the end, so he is dead. LeRoux, the philosopher, the one whose choices were guided by logic and balance that could have shifted at any moment, is dead. Nnoitra, who was too crazed to choose survival over defeat, is dead. To me, Szayel Aporro, this looks like spring cleaning in the throne room. The only question is,' he continued, sitting on top of Szayel's bed and yawning so widely that is jaws cracked, 'how did _you_ sin to fall into the folds of the disposable, Perfect Being? Did you fail to moan convincingly enough?'

_Low and unwarranted, but satisfying nonetheless._

'I…'Szayel began furiously, 'am…_not…_disposable!'

What he was, however, was intelligent and perverted enough to understand the truth, and then flutter his angry hell butterfly wings, faint, insinuating waves of young reiatsu, in a convincing – too convincing – manner, for as long as he needed to make sense of the situation. He had thought he would be on the winning side of the affair – he clearly was not; he would need to find a new winning side, fast. After he had mounted every possible logical protest he could have mounted, from declaiming his undying trust in Aizen's glory and generosity, to declaring his utter despise for the humans and Shinigami, who thoroughly deserved to be eradicated, for being uncompromisingly inferior, to citing every single little thing he had created for Las Noches that the city could not _possibly_ have gone without, Szayel Aporro finally quoted the only one true reason for which he could have rationally refuted Stark's words.

'…besides, you would never come to my aid of your own accord, Stark. You hate me with almost as much burning passion as I hate you.'

'That is true,' the Segunda admitted. 'But that is an emotional reason – I ran out of logical reasons when I saw Neliel.'

Szayel Aporro's glasses gleamed coldly, disguising his eyes.

'And? is the former Tercera a pretty corpse?' he asked, in a voice that Stark had never heard before.

'Szayel.'

'She is dead,' the Octava hissed. 'I caught her in a reiatsu trap. Nnoitra split her skull, and though she begged and pleaded for her life she is _dead – _I became Octava, Nnoitra finally caught a break from his spite, and the rest is history_. _I have already told you this. _She is dead._ It is over.'

A beautiful performance, only spoiled by the fact that his knees seemed to have turned soft, and caused him to lean against the dressing table as if it had been the last solid point in an universe of quicksands.

Stark stood, crossing his arms over his chest.

'I _saw _her,' he repeated, emotionlessly. 'I saw what you turned her into.'

'She is dead,' Szayel Aporro begged, finding no mercy.

'You turned her into the only thing Nnoitra would not kill,' Stark whispered, as Szayel Aporro shuffled past him, shoulders bent under the wheight of the world. 'Something too weak for him to bother with. Something too weak for Aizen to bother with.'

The Octava walked to the chamber's only window, a tall, narrow slit in the sekki stone his bedroom was constructed out of, and stood there, motionless, thin arms crossed behind his back, the light of Hueco Mundo's perpetual moon sliding softly over the sharp, square, tense line of his suddenly masculine lower jaw.

'And don't tell me you made a mistake, Szayel Aporro,' Stark followed. 'You do not make mistakes. There are things you do not know, things that lie beyond your power, but you never miscalculate the things you do know. And you knew Neliel, you knew her better than any of us. You made no mistake there. You wanted her to live, and you put her in a shape that would keep her safe and from wich she would recover in a long time, after all the turmoil has passed over her. Because you still love her as much as you did…'

The tips of the Octava's glove fingers turned pink, where his nails had sunk enough into the skin of his palms to draw blood.

'Enough,' Szayel barked, and Stark relented.

'You do not trust Aizen more than I do, Szayel Aporro, but you hide it better.' The Segunda icily hissed. 'The difference between a radical atheist and a fanatical dogmatician is barely noticeable – and you play on it, you've played on it since the accursed day that Aizen crossed into Hueco Mundo. It is easy to pretend that you believe in something, when you believe in nothing… You do not trust him. That is why you hid Neliel, that's why you suppressed her reiatsu. Because you know Aizen will use this invasion to thin the ranks of the truly powerful Hollows that might someday grow to oppose him, regardless of whether he will win or lose against the Gotei…and while you personally bend every which way, you understood that Neliel would not bend, you understood that, just like me and Grimmjow, she would come at some point come to openly oppose him, and then he would destroy her. That is, of course, if the other Shinigami didn't get her first.'

'What do you want, Stark?' the Octava asked, bowing his head.

'I want _my_ world back,' Stark snapped. '_My_ world. The world in which I – _we_ – were the top of the food chain, and none of us trembled before the Shinigami.'

'Are you suggesting what I think you are suggesting? Are you actually proposing what I think you are proposing?'

Stark clenched his fists in his turn.

'Yes. Yes, I am tired of waiting for the enemy that will finally get me and…' He breathed deeply, and cut himself short. 'I want to fight _him_. I want to defeat _him_. I want _him_ and his ilk to be erased from our world.'

No names needed to be spoken.

'And how could I be of service?' Szayel purred, looking over his shoulder.

'Your mistrust in God must have materialized somehow,' Stark flatly stated. 'In a way he feared enough to want you dead. You have eyes, ears and carrion crawlers everywhere…You are not a loyal creature – though he has Gin watching you like a hawk, I suspect you've already started digging at the base of the throne. And when Aizen began suspecting you, when he caught on to your quiet collection of dead Privaron, instead of making use of your genious, he tried to kill you. He insulted your perfection by trying to discard you, and you will not let this pass. Neither will Grimmjow. He only stands on Yammy, Halibel and Barragan…'

'Ulquiorra might be worth a mention,' the Octava added coldly, and Stark coughed to adjust his voice before speaking again. Yes, Ulquiorra. That would be problematic.

'…and we will not be alone,' Stark continued, 'the Gotei want us in Hueco Mundo, but they don't want _him_ here more than we do.'

'I doubt the Gotei will welcome an allegiance,' Szayel thoughtfully said.

'We won't offer them one. We will just turn, at the opportune moment. But we need Grimmjow back first.'

And Neliel, of course.

That thought of Stark's remained unspoken.

Szayel willed his fingers to relax, stretching them so much they almost bent outwards.

'Open the dressing table you mistreated earlier. These readings are not nearly as complete as the ones obtained in my laboratory are. I have to be careful with placing sensors, Gin is sniffing everywhere.' he said, dreamily, as Stark found the hidden lever, and lifted the top of the dressing table, making all the objects that lied atop it slide inside the wall with a delicate hum. The hidden monitor cast a faint, green light on Stark's chest.

'I have no guarantee that they are even useable, as they stand.'

The words _Incomplete reiatsu models_ blinked innocently on the screen_. _

'They should, however, provide a little dent in certain defenses, given, of course, that the supressors are deployed at the correct location.'

The folder structure expanded.

_Yasotura,??_

_Kurosaki, Ichigo._

_Schiffer, Ulquiorra._

_Halibel._

_Stark._

'Oh, my,' the Segunda snickered, leaning in, 'I am flattered.'

_Barragan._

_Kaname, Tousen._

_Ichimaru, Gin._

_Sousuke, Aizen._

'Szayel Aporro,' Stark breathed. 'You've been a very, _very, _bad boy.

The Octava laughed, half turning around, and looking at Stark over the silvery rims of his mask. 'Now, now. Don't say that unless you truly intend to spank me,' Szayel Aporro said, arching an eyebrow.

* * *

Up next - hopefully this weekend, Grimmjow! to complete the riders of the apocalypse - the sleepy, the sexually confused, and the...well, the cat.


	15. Reunion

And now it gets really AU...I do hope you will enjoy it. I hope that Tito Kube has a good fate in mind for some of the Espada, but, until then, I prefer to think up my own little survival camp.

Thank all for reading and commenting; Maidros, as usual for putting up with me at late hours in the night, you're a hero.

Warnings - I told you Lilinette gets her dirty mouth from Grimmjow. So, language, language, language.

Chapter 15 - Where I could not resist Kenpachi's manly charm. Stark was nearly overcome too.

* * *

Isane Kotetsu looked up from Zaraki Kenpachi's chest; the man never seemed to appreciate her efforts, and, in truth, perhaps in his case _alone _the skills of the 4th division were unnecessary. Given enough time, Kenpachi would heal on his own, as he usually did. On this one occasion, however, he had actually asked to be healed, and Isane could only wonder at the strength of the creature he had faced.

…and its body looked so frail…she thought, stealing a glance to the side, at the corpse of the dead Quinta Espada.

In spite of the fact that Hueco Mundo had no sun, the white sands were hot, and the Arrancar's blood had dried out completely, leaving a black shadow around the elongated figure. They had turned him around and covered him, and a few had gasped at the horrific sight of the Hollow's empty and fanged left eye socket.

A bit to the side, arms bound by reiatsu cancelling shackles provided by the 12th division, the Espada's fracction kept his forehead bowed and wept quietly, as he had since the beginning – tears slowly sliding from his chin and onto the hot sand. It made Isane wonder whether the two had been tied by some sort of inbred loyalty, with one creature simply existing to serve the other, or whether they had been bound by some twisted form of genuine affection. Not that it mattered.

The other Espada had not moved at all since he had been healed – he had kept still, not even looking at Hanatarou as the little boy worked on his grievous injuries. He had not protested the shackles, either, and, once he had been bound, he had simply lied back, placing the hard sekki shackles under his head, and looked at the sky. For a while, he had kept his blue eyes open; they were now closed, and his breath was deep and regular.

Maybe he is asleep, Isane thought. Given the condition they had found him in, it would not have been surprising. She frowned a little. Could Arrancar…Hollows, ghosts sleep? Or was it his human body that required rest? And if they did sleep, what did they dream of? As if sensing her thoughts, the Espada had opened his eyes and hissed at her, revealing his sharp, eerily elongated canines and making her shudder. Then, he had turned his head to the side, as if the shattered remains of the Hollow jaw that covered his right cheek could have shielded him from her glance.

'He's harmless,' Kenpachi said, feeling her shudder. 'Ain't no trace of anything coming from him.'

The Espada tensed as if he'd been lashed.

'I know,' Isane off-handedly replied, feeling mildly displeased at the fact that she had been so obviously startled.

'Betcha he wishes he was dead,' Kenpachi grinned; Isane nodded, allowing him to step away. It was perhaps the first time when she had thought healing someone was pointless – it was not in the mindset of the 4th division to leave even wounded enemies to die slowly, however, and Isane had found captain Unohana's orders justified. She just idly wondered what would happen to the two prisoners, as well as any other prisoners, once the war was over. Leaving them to their own devices in Hueco Mundo would have been unwise, since they seemed to have gained the ability of travelling to the human world at their will. Then, would they be executed? How did one execute a Hollow that was already in Hueco Mundo?

Isane thoughtfully folded away her healing stuffs.

Would they be taken back to Soul Society to be imprisoned? studied?

She again shuddered at the thought; like all of her division, she found Mayuri Kurosutchi and his work repulsive, and did not doubt that even Arrancar deserved a cleaner end than falling between his hands.

Perhaps, the lieutenant thought, the Hongyaku could be used to remove the unnatural powers the traitor had given them, yet…Isane looked at the fraction, and at the quickly drying traces of his tears in the sand, then shifted her glance to the baby Arrancar that lay in Kurosaki Ichigo's arms – Nel slept with one small hand entangled in the human boy's kimono and suckling on her thumb, emitting small, muttered protests every time that he tried to move – all of them felt so human, so very _human_…Not only in body, but oddly, also in spirit. There would have been no reason why they would have been in this shape other than the fact that they had probably desperately longed for it; else, even with their powers, they would have preserved their monstrous Hollow bodies. And then, perhaps allowing them to survive with the memory of the humanity that was forever lost to them would be a punishment crueler than any other.

She had bent over to place her tools in her tiny bag when she had felt the faint, minty scent of captain Unohana's uniform, and looked up. It was only then that she had noticed the vibration in the air, and the fact that the Espada had sat up brusquely, like a depressurized arc. In Ichigo's arms, Nel had stirred and still opened one sleep ridden eye.

A small, round and rather comical creature fell from the sky before them; like a rubber ball, it bounced a few times, letting out small pained yelps each time that it touched the ground, before stopping completely, and rolling onto its short legs. The Shinigami company stood to attention, and Ichigo jumped to his feet, after gently setting Nel down to the side. Kenpachi drew his sword and sprang forth, with a huge grin on his features, and, had it not been for Unohana's resolute gesture of refusal, he would probably have cut the creature in half in the same stride. In a display of speed and discipline that seemed entirely disproportionate for the size and shape of the intruder, the Shinigami positioned themselves into a tight semicircle around the three Arrancar.

'Don't kill me!' the thing shrieked, covering its round face with its crossed arms, and freezing into position.

'Verona?' Tesla said, for the first time raising his face. He looked genuinely surprised, but not nearly as surprised as Grimmjow.

'What the fuck?' he grunted.

'Sexta Espada Grimmjow-sama!' Verona shrieked again, sneaking a peek between its crossed forearms.

'Yeah, that's still me. I will repeat – what the fuck?'

'Tell them not to kill me!' it repeated, in a clearly terrified squeal.

'Does it look like I can tell them shit?' Grimmjow answered, grinning regretfully, and showing his bound wrists.

'Eeek!' the creature cried, again covering its face with its arms. 'If I get killed before I set up the projector, Szayel Aporro-sama will be very angry. He told me to bring it back, too, and if I am dead I can't bring back the projector – so, don't kill me!'

'Makes sense, of course' Unohana shrugged, smiling kindly, and resolutely pressing Kenpachi's sword back in its scabbard. 'What are you?'

'Uhh, I am…a thing. Not an important thing. Not important enough to kill. Hope after I clearly stated this, you're not going to kill me?' Verona asked, in a hopeful tone.

'Why would we do that?' the 4th division captain asked, nodding encouragingly. 'You haven't done anything. And you need to return the projector.'

'I do, I do,' Verona nodded, slowly lowering its arms. It grinned, its wide, perfectly square teeth taking up half of its round face. 'A moment, please,' it said, taking three deep bows while it spoke the words. It propped up a thin, white tripod, then carefully attached a elliptical dish to the top end. 'I carry a message. Well, I don't carry it, I just deliver it. Not even that, I carry the means by which it is delivered…'

'I wonder why he eats Lumina and not you all the time,' Grimmjow muttered, in the background. 'At least Lumina makes fucking sense when she fucking talks…'

Verona pouted, and flicked a switch on the tripod; Unohana frowned briefly, as the spirit particles around her accelerated and begun spinning. Her frown grew even deeper when the spirit particles arranged themselves into the semi-opaque shape of another Arrancar, and she felt Kenpachi tensing against her arm.

The image flickered a few times, making the small, round Hollow rush to adjust the tripod. When it was finally stable, Verona took a step back and bowed again – to the image, as well as to the Shinigami.

'Greetings,' the image said, adjusting its glasses, then running its long, graceful fingers along its chin to move the tiny, articulated sound receptor a bit further away from its lips. 'Three captain class presences that almost make me regret that I am not there in person.'

'The fuck they do…' Grimmjow snarled. '…bloody coward!'

'…and Grimmjow.' The image remarked, arching an eyebrow. 'The thing that makes me regret even my virtual presence. Oh, Tesla,' Szayel Aporro purred, noticing the Quinta Fracction, and allowing himself a cruel grin. 'You survived Nnoitra. How amusing. Whatever will you do with your time from now on?'

The fracction looked away, the pain on his features making Isane's heart cringe.

'Another Espada?' Kurosaki inquired, under his breath. Unohana contented herself on a nod.

'Indeed so, Shinigami,' Szayel Aporro nodded in his turn, taking a small bow. 'Under different circumstances, I would have introduced myself as Octava Espada. At the moment, the title seems rather moot. I am Szayel Aporro Granz.'

'Have you come on the behalf of Sousuke Aizen?' the woman asked, in her gentle, steady tone.

'No, not really,' Szayel answered, taking a small step forward in his turn.

'…believe that when Hell freezes over,' the Sexta responded, his words directed at no one in particular. The pink haired Arrancar looked at him over the assembled Shinigami's shoulders, cranking his nose in disgust.

A humid, unnaturally cold gust of wind sent sand particles against Grimmjow's cheek, making him breathe in deeply. His glance darted to the side as he caught a familiar fragrance, and he allowed himself a small grin – perhaps, Grimmjow thought, seeking to meet Tesla's gaze, and bidding the Fracction closer, Szayel was not lying. For once.

'Does it bloody matter?' Kenpachi grinned, darting forward, and evading Unohana's grasp.

'I have a message of my own to convey…' Szayel frowned deeply. Kenpachi's sword slashed furiously though the semi-transparent image, making it flicker; Verona darted away, with a high pitched squeal. 'Though, perhaps, I should spend some time explaining the meaning of the word 'virtual', beforehand?' Szayel muttered, in obvious distaste, as the captain of the 11th division plowed clearly through his projection, and almost knocked the tripod over.

'He ain't here,' Kenpachi grunted in disappointment, standing in the middle of Szayel's semi-transparent body.

'That would, indeed, be the shortest and simplest definition of it,' the Espada sighed, raising his palms defensively. 'Now, would you care to step away, or should I? I could offer to do it, but my range of movement is limited by my camera's catchment area. I think it would be preferable if you moved, Shinigami-kun.'

Smirking in disgust of the Arrancar's overly sweet smile, which denoted little else but polite solicitude, Kenpachi took a step to the side, then waved his sword through the air, as if assuring himself there was no way in which he could have damaged the Espada. Szayel Aporro directed a thoroughly insulted glance at Unohana.

'Are you the brains of the establishment?' he asked, re-adjusting his glasses. 'I should hope there is a brain amongst you, lest I am doomed to speak to that,' he concluded, indicating Kenpachi, who still casually slashed his sword through the projection every few seconds.

'I am listening,' she answered, her conceding grin too faint to be a noticeable insult towards the captain of the 11th division; at Unohana's side, Isane smiled softly in her turn. Zaraki Kenpachi was…Zaraki Kenpachi. There was no fix to him.

'Very well,' Szayel Aporro continued. 'It is quite simple, really. I am here to ask you to return our resident idiot to us. The village has not quite been the same without him.'

'…asshole,' Grimmjow said, in a low growl.

'Your gratitude overwhelms me, Sexta,' the Octava purred, in return.

'I am afraid I have no mandate to discuss a prisoner release at this time,' Unohana answered, softly shuffling forth. To anyone who did not know her, the sound of her voice might have sounded as kind and as sweet as ever – yet, it made Isane frown. The lieutenant felt something, a barely perceptible tension in her reiatsu. Something was amiss.

'I suspected you would say something along those lines, 4th Division Captain Unohana Retsu.' Szayel Aporro shrugged. 'The world is a very boring place for me, most of the time.' He sighed, deeply. 'However, I am afraid you will have to overstep your mandate. Or, of course, you could ask for input from your superiors. The Garganta are not yet closed. Whatever your intentions and degree of independence, my humble suggestion would be acting fast. I am afraid your friends…are losing their patience.'

The image flickered, and switched – to the struggling form of Abarai Renji, then, to Nemu Kurosutchi, to Ishida Uryu, and finally, to the writhing, green fluid that remained of Mayuri Kurosutchi.

Grimmjow grinned. The pink-haired bastard was not useless, after all.

'Renji!' Isane whispered, clenching her fists. 'And he's got captain Kurosutchi…'

'Ishida!' Ichigo breathed in his turn – the silk wrappings of his sword drifted aside, and Zangetsu slashed through Szayel's renewed projection.

'Another for whom the word virtual is a mystery. Adorable,' Szayel sighed, briefly measuring the orange-haired human boy. The glance was not even curious, Ichigo noticed, tensing his jaws. Just dismissive.

'I have no guarantee that the things you are showing me are real, Arrancar,' Unohana said, her voice suddenly cold. 'As far as I can tell, our allies may already be dead…'

'Oh, I assure you they are not dead. Yet. They could be, in a while – granted, not a short while. Still…'

Szayel Aporro's glasses gleamed, and the image switched again, focusing on Renji.

'Say something, vice-captain Abarai,' the Octava ironically prompted, noticing Renji had frozen in place as soon as the camera had come in focus. 'It is not the time to spare us your smashing vocabulary.'

'Damn you!' Renji exploded, resuming his struggles against the container. 'When I get out of here I'll strangle you with your own intestines!' The sound was abruptly and dryly cut off, though Renji's lips kept moving.

'Not creative, but it will do.' Szayel said, taking a deep breath, as if seeking to steel his nerves. 'As you can see,' he added, taking a step to the side and allowing the Shinigami to see Renji's struggles, 'he is alive and woefully talkative.'

'I am afraid I am not mandated to discuss a prisoner exchange, either,' Unohana sternly said, after a brief moment of consideration.

'Captain Unohana,' Ichigo and Isane breathed, in a single voice; the woman sorrowfully looked away and shook her head.

Szayel Aporro stretched his fingers across his forehead, and threw his hair back.

'Most disappointing,' he sighed. 'I see we shall have to resort to force, yet again.'

'Yo, Stark,' Grimmjow saluted, without looking up, as the Segunda materialized beside him. Tesla gasped, and darted to his feet. To Ichigo's amazement, Nel had stood as well, advancing towards the newcomer with her unsure, toddler steps.

'Hello, Grimmjow,' Stark yawned in return. He slowly took his right hand out of his pocket.

The Shinigami's reaction was hopelessly slow – cold gusts of cutting wind and sand particles turned projectiles swept all but Kenpachi and Unahana off their feet. Unlike all others, who had fallen to their knees, sliding away in the sand and shielding their eyes and mouths, Unahana barely even frowned. In his turn, Kenpachi grinned wide.

'You again! Punk!' he growled, drawing his zanpakutoh, and advancing against the wind with amazing ease. 'You're not gonna get away this time.'

'I shall pose every effort to assure the contrary,' Stark shrugged, redoubling his efforts. No longer wind, but cutting blades, his reiatsu swept over the Shinigami, keeping them in place; still, beyond all logic, and though his step had been slowed for a mere second, Kenpachi kept moving. Unohana merely turned her head to the side, but behind her Ichigo too was struggling to his feet, using Zangetsu to prop himself up.

'Bastard,' the boy whispered, his brown eyes meeting Stark's grey glance through the storm. 'What have you done with Orihime?'

'Nothing,' Stark answered earnestly. 'As far as I know, she is unharmed, until Aizen decides differently. I do not want to fight you,' the Espada said, cringing ever so slightly as Kenpachi drew himself too close for comfort. 'You would probably win,' he conceded, frowning as he caught a glimpse of Nnoitra's corpse.

The wind stopped as brusquely as it had started, the solidified shield of Stark's reiatsu leaving a deep, circular imprint in the sand.

'Ha!' Kenpachi exclaimed, with obvious pleasure, hitting his shoulder against the barrier. 'Don't yield before you have to! You're actually worth fightin'!' The Segunda cringed visibly, unexplainably slipping a foot back as the Shinigami captain pressed his shoulder against the shied again. Understanding that Stark would not be able to hold Kenpachi off for long, Grimmjow stood, with feline grace and speed.

'If you get me outta this shit, I can Sonido…' he said, offering the shackles for inspection. Wordlessly, Stark fumbled through his left pocket, and, at the end of what had seemed an eternity of searching, took out a small, square and almost paper thin piece of circuitry, then handed it off to Grimmjow. The Sexta looked up in confusion.

'…the fuck?' he asked.

'If the binding cancels your reiatsu,' Szayel explained, with mock patience, 'it would cancel his reiatsu as well. He cannot touch it, so, help yourself.'

Barely noticing the irony in the Octava's voice, Grimmjow painstakingly maneuvered his wrists into position; at his side, Stark winced, and slipped another foot back.

'Hurry,' he breathed, his voice almost stifled by the effort. 'Gods, he's huge…'

Kenpachi laughed – a loud, insane cackle, and leapt forward; slipping to one knee, Stark clenched his fist, the barrier between him and the captain becoming visible – white, translucent incisors clenched together tightly and dripping dark strands of reiatsu, which seeped in between the fangs with the fluidity of fresh blood.

Grimmjow managed to place the small circuit on the binding – a high pitched electric noise erupted briefly, making all wince, and even causing Szayel's projection to flicker. The shackles shattered, as the Sexta pulled his arms apart. The blue-haired Arrancar grinned, and repeated the gesture on Tesla's bindings; this time, however, the circuit simply hissed, emitting a thin line of chocking black smoke.

'They can keep Tesla,' Szayel Aporro cruelly cackled, lowering his arm, and putting away the cylindrical remote control. 'As a gesture of goodwill from our part, since they did not, after all, agree to a prisoner exchange. I doubt anyone wants to adopt him, anyway.'

Grimmjow frowned, briefly, measuring the Fracction's pained and humiliated features. Tesla only sustained his gaze for a moment, then looked to Nnoitra's body; it did not matter anymore, Grimmjow understood, not without the Quinta. The Espada hesitated for a second.

Behind them, long dark lines of crimson energy exploded as Ichigo pressed Zangetsu against the shield in his turn; Stark cursed under his breath, stretching his open left palm towards the boy.

'Go, Grimmjow. The Eighth tower basement. Keep away from God's eyes,' Stark winced. 'Go, now!'

'Dude, you're gonna get crushed,' the Sexta dispassionately observed.

'You think?' Stark snapped, furiously looking up. His forehead was covered in sweat, and his clenched fist had started to bleed, darkness spreading quickly over the glove. 'Move!'

With a deep breath, Grimmjow finally conceded; instead of darting straight upwards, however, he dashed to the side and retrieved Pantera, grinning triumphantly as he passed by Isane's kneeling form. He then returned to Tesla's side, grabbing the Fracction by the chest of his shirt.

'Don't,' Stark suddenly reacted. 'Leave him…'

'Eh, why?' Grimmjow shot.

'He's a liability to our designs,' Szayel Aporro responded, dryly; the Sexta's grin grew even more insanely wide.

'And you're a cowardly little fucker,' Grimmjow laughed, draping Tesla over his arm as if the Fracction had been a piece of cloth. 'Ain't gonna leave anyone behind. See ya later, Kurosaki Ichigo,' he hissed, dangerously approaching the left side of Stark's barrier, to lean in and look into Ichigo's eyes – then finally vanished, to reappear several feet in the air. 'Coming, Stark?' he asked, amusedly.

'In a…moment,' Stark answered, not even looking up. Grimmjow shrugged, and vanished for good, too quickly for Ichigo to follow.

'So ya are gonna fight, punk!' Kenpachi shouted, with glee. 'Stay out of it, Kurosaki, I'm gonna…'

'Sorry to disappoint, I am not going to fight you…I am endowed with a modest sense of self-preservation.' the Segunda whispered. 'I do not want to fight any of you. Neither now, nor when we next meet. Remember this well.' he said, locking his gaze onto Unohana's – unphased, unlike her companions, the woman nodded, kindly. She understood indeed.

'But do stay out of it…kid!' Stark grunted, briefly looking over his shoulder at Ichigo; the barrier flickered and lashed out, powerfully repelling Zangetsu's blade and making Ichigo jump several feet back. Stark's glance drifted away, and it was only then that Ichigo noticed that Nel had been standing inside the Segunda's shield all the while. The baby Arrancar did not look frightened in the least – she simply glanced at the Espada with open, childish curiosity.

'Neliel,' Stark whispered, meeting her glance. The word had been spoken too softly for even the Segunda to hear himself, but Szayel had registered it as if it had been a shout.

'No,' he snappily said, for the first time appearing nervous. 'Leave her.'

'Neliel,' Stark whispered again. His right forearm was now bleeding as well, as if Kenpachi's furious lashings at the barrier had actually cut into his flesh – small droplets of blood stained the white silk of the hakama, over his tensed knee, but he was oblivious to it all. 'Come to me, Neliel.'

As if hypnotized, the little child stepped forward, wiping her nose with the sleeve of her shirt.

'I'm Nel,' she said, simply.

'Goddamn you, Stark, leave her!' Szayel desperately commanded, forgetting where he was, and stepping forward, out of the camera's catchment area, as if he'd hoped to prevent Stark's next move. He'd turned back a second later, tiny fists clenched and impotent fury in his eyes. 'Leave her, you selfish bastard,' he hissed under his breath, but Stark did not even look his way.

The world outside the barrier did not exist.

'Nel knowth ya,' Nel whispered in her turn; despite the painful pressure on his arm, Stark smiled.

'You do,' he answered warmly.

'Nel!' Ichigo called. 'Get away from that! Nel!'

Still, the child drew even closer.

'Ya are 'urt,' she sniffled, looking at the Espada's torn arm.

'It's nothing,' Stark answered, tensing his jaw against yet another of Kenpachi's savage pushes. 'Come, Neliel. I need you…We need to go home.'

'…home?' the baby asked, dreamily. 'Ya, I guess sho…I can go home with you.' Nel conceded, wrapping her arms around the kneeling Espada's neck.

'Indeed,' Stark resolutely said, wrapping his left arm around her in his turn. She did not struggle, and, in the same heartbeat, the barrier vanished, making Kenpachi fall forward.

'Nel!' Ichigo shouted, springing forth but knowing, knowing all too well that the Espada, whomever he was, would disappear into thin air before he could be reached, just as he had before.

'It's all right, Isygo,' Nel smiled, from Stark's arms. 'Nel knowth 'im. Nel trusth 'im.'

Both vanished, leaving naught but a crater of white sand in their wake.

'Don't forget the projector,' Unohana softly uttered, in the deep silence that followed. Verona lifted its face from the sand, and contented herself on a sheepish nod.

* * *

Up next - There is hostility in the air at the Revolutionary Headquarters.


	16. Felis Vulgaris

_Dum loquimur, fugit invida aetas; carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero._

_As we speak, envious time is runing out; sieze the day, and have no faith in the future._

_-- Horatio, Odes_

A good war song, I always found. Quoted below by the resident intellectuals. Stark's excuse for knowing this was that he lived in the Middle Ages. Szayel Aporro has no excuse for knowing this. **Szayel Aporro needs no excuses.**

Felis Vulgaris - the latin name for the fierce predator known as the common house cat. A proper name for Grimmjow; in other words...

Warnings - Vulgarities, also known as very bad language, and dead latin poets ensue.

Thank you all for reading and commenting :)

Chapter 16 - Where the pieces of the puzzle align _almost _without friction.

* * *

Unlike the blades of all other Espada swords Stark knew, Fornicares' blade was warm, a few degrees above normal body temperature; it was perhaps because of this that it had so easily slipped through the top layers of his Hierro. The Segunda briefly wondered if Szayel had even considered the futility of his rage, then sighed.

'Don't bore me, Szayel Aporro.' He said, removing the blade's edge from under his chin with two folded fingers. 'I am hard pressed against my narcolepsy already.'

'I thought we had an understanding,' Szayel Aporro snarled, furiously pressing the blade against Stark's hand. 'Neliel Tu should have remained where she was.'

'The fact that I understand you did not imply that we had an understanding,' Stark off-handedly replied. 'Get out of my way.' He snarled, grasping the sword in earnest; white crackles of energy ascended his already injured arm and he unwillingly winced.

'Ladies!' Grimmjow snickered, entering the room on Stark's heels. 'Do I detect some hostility in the air? …the fuck, and I ain't said anything yet. Imagine how pissed y'all will be when I actually say something!'

He walked between the other two Espada, separating Fornicares from Stark's hand with the back of his closed fist, then cast Tesla aside on the floor; he barely had time to tense his shoulder before Lilinette's own shoulder mercilessly slammed into it. Both Arrancar recoiled one step to opposite sides and grinned happily.

'Yo Grimm!' Lilinette exclaimed in glee.

'Hey kiddo!' he returned, sounding equally pleased to see her. 'How's it hanging? Wrecked havoc in the forbidden tower yet, as per my wise teachings?'

'Thankfully, she had neither the time nor the leeway to do so.' Szayel Aporro muttered, withdrawing but keeping Fornicares unsheathed and his glance locked on Stark. 'I would encourage civilized behavior from now on, as well, else…'

'Seriously, dude, chill.' Grimmjow innocently sighed, then grinned wide. 'Take a joke. No one is gonna damage your precious toys.'

He let himself fall heavily on top of Szayel's chair, making the Octava wince at the slight screech of the chair's arches.

'So?' he asked, crossing his legs, and leaning the back of his head on his arms. 'What are we up to? Why are we avoiding Aizen's ears and hiding out in Castle Doom? And most of all, what's with the new sound box?' he inquired, indicating Nel.

'It's very cute!' Lilinette chimed, drawing closer to Stark and curiously looking at the baby Arrancar. In her turn, Nel reached out and pressed her index finger on the tip of Lilinette's nose, then giggled.

'Nel knowth you, too.'

Lilinette frowned.

'Nel?' she asked, suddenly serious. 'Neliel?' she added, looking up at Stark; the Segunda nodded briefly, and kneeled, setting the baby Arrancar down on her own two feet. 'No, really! What's wrong with her?' Lilinette asked, bending over to look at Nel.

'Nothing more than what is wrong with you,' Szayel Aporro snarled, putting his sword back in its scabbard, making his way to the darkness in the back of the laboratory and finding something pointless to do – same shuffling of instruments in and out of drawers that he painfully remembered Nemu Kurosutchi performing in front of the Quincy.

The chair's arches protested again, as Grimmjow straightened.

'You gotta be kidding me,' he said to Stark. 'That's Neliel Tu? Tercera Espada Neliel Tu?'

'…Espada?' Ishida breathed from somewhere behind, making Grimmjow turn the chair around.

'Nice collection, Szayel Aporro,' he frowned. 'Although I cannot say much for what is behind door number four,' he added, the left corner of his mouth drawing out as he saw Kurosutchi. 'Gonna keep that in your house?'

'I have not yet decided whether to boil it or freeze it,' Szayel softly responded.

'Place smellth funny,' Nel suddenly declared; somewhere in the dark, a glass object shattered on the floor. She strayed from Lilinette, and stopped to curiously look up at Grimmjow; the Sexta glanced down at her as well. 'You are a kitty,' she flatly declared. 'A big kitty.'

'He he,' Grimmjow laughed, leaning even further in. 'That's true.' Though his eyes had narrowed at the sight at the broken mask, his voice had kept on level. 'What happened here?' he asked, speaking to Stark though he kept his eyes on the child. 'I thought Neliel Tu was dead.'

'That is a charged question,' the Segunda lazily responded. 'Perhaps Szayel Aporro could enlighten you, if he could bring himself over to look at his handy work for a few minutes.'

'Ah,' Grimmjow said, as if the mere mention of Szayel Aporro had justified everything. Without taking note of Nel's protests, he ran his fingers up the crack in the mask. The edges of the crack were sharp, not melted. 'This is not Fornicares' cut, tho'. This has crazy-ass Nnoitra all over it.'

'It was a collaborative process,' Szayel answered, finally stepping up to look at Nel.

Under different circumstances, the Octava thought, clenching his fingers behind his back, he would have been proud. The baby Arrancar was not even knee high to him, and her unfocused glance, through the large, grey eyes, clearly showed she remembered very little of anything.

_Not that she had remembered before._

'I trapped her in a reiatsu suppressor and Nnoitra destroyed her mask,' Szayel repeated blankly; though the child could not possibly have understood the statement, she sniffled and drew closer to Lilinette, putting her arms around the girl's knee.

'I knowth him too,' she declared, her glance suddenly focused and full of hatred. 'He's a meanie.'

'Got that right, too.' Grimmjow laughed again. He looked up to meet Lilinette's glance, and frowned briefly. The girl had not even cracked a smile.

'Then, I used a reiatsu extractor much like the one over there to take most of Neliel's energy and seal it away.' Szayel Aporro dryly concluded, stretching his palm to gracefully indicate the synthesis machine in the corner. 'It was a quick and probably quite painful process, but it functioned well. Thus, the shape and the lack of memory. Any more questions?' he snapped, looking at Stark with almost tangible hatred.

'Eh ya,' Grimmjow grinned. 'I hate to ask stupid things…'

'Since when?' Szayel Aporro kindly chimed, arching an eyebrow.

'…I hear having no teeth makes you better at giving blow jobs. Insult me again and I'll remove them for you.' the Sexta growled. Szayel's eyes narrowed threateningly, but he stayed silent. 'So! Again – without meaning to sound stupid, why not go for the obvious choice and fucking kill her, if you wanted a chair at the table with the big boys? I mean, going through all of that shit just to turn her into this…'

'That is outside the scope of this conversation,' Stark answered, in Szayel's turn. The hatred in the Octava's eyes faltered for a single moment. Until Grimmjow caught up.

'You didn't want her to get killed,' he suddenly exclaimed, in a voice filled with satisfaction. 'Now, why would you not want her being killed?' the Sexta snickered. 'Unless you…and her…'

The snicker quickly threatened to turn to manic laughter, as Grimmjow stood.

'But that can't be; you and her is a fucking impossibility of the Universe! It's like…Yammy and Ulquiorra, me and Aaroniero, and Stark and Halibel! No offence, dude,' Grimmjow cackled to the side, not even taking notice of the fact that Stark had paled. 'brains and boobs don't go together at all. I could've told you that from the start.'

'I never implied anything of the sort,' Szayel hissed; a wiser man than Grimmjow would have let up.

'Then what? You gonna tell me that you spent all this effort to save the life of a woman who never even looked your way? You, Szayel Aporro, who…?'

He did not have time to finish the phrase. In a split second, the Sexta had been pinned against the button panel behind him, with Szayel's suddenly thick and chocking reiatsu clogging his lungs. Szayel was not even as light as his frame suggested, Grimmjow suddenly realized, as the Octava's knee connected with his stomach, keeping him in place, and Fornicares, gleaming along Szayel's arm, slipped under his chin.

'So?' Szayel Aporro hissed, honey-colored eyes acquiring the writhing consistency of molten lava. 'What are you about to annoy me for now, Grimmjow? _Not_ being gay? And while we are on that subject, dare I express my deep displeasure at the fact that the homoerotic fixation on Kurosaki Ichigo did _not_ kill the panther?'

'Get the fuck off me,' the Sexta growled, pressing his arm into Szayel's shoulder. Oddly enough, however, he did not have enough strength to repel him – the Octava felt ten times heavier, and crushingly strong. He focused his energy, the palm of his hand squarely against Szayel's chest, but the Cero would not come – Grimmjow looked up in genuine surprise, and though he took a step forward, Stark shook his head in Lilinette's direction, to keep her from intervening before this matter at least was settled.

'You noticed,' Szayel purred, leaning in closer, and forcing Grimmjow's chin up with Fornicares' edge. Disgusted by the other man's physical proximity, the Sexta smirked. 'Sadly,' Szayel continued, in a low growl, 'my models on Stark are woefully incomplete – yours, however, are fully functional. While in this room, you are unable to as much as Sonido. So tread carefully.'

'And what do you think you're gonna do to me?' Grimmjow growled in return, grasping the Octava's shirt.

'Just what I am doing; keep you under my thumb, and remind you what the pecking order is, in this tower, you dumb animal.' Szayel Aporro answered, furiously. 'This,' he breathed, leaning his full wheight and the blade of his sword on Grimmjow's neck, 'is my territory. So do try not to shed on the furniture…'

Szayel's pretty features twisted into a mask of revulsion.

'…kitten.'

'Fine, fine,' Grimmjow conceded with a shrug. He let go of Szayel's shirt, and relaxed. It wasn't fear of the Octava, Stark noticed – when Grimmjow was frightened or humiliated, he looked angry. This time, he actually looked…surprised.

It was unlike Szayel Aporro to challenge anything stronger than himself for simple momentary gratification, and, whatever the balance of power was in his laboratory, Grimmjow would still be stronger anywhere else. The gesture had been an honest outburst of rage – oddly enough, the type of behavior that Grimmjow respected; combined with the proof of Szayel's single moment of irrational behavior, which stood before them in the shape of a tiny baby Arrancar, it was enough to assure that the Sexta now saw Szayel through completely different eyes.

_Oh well_, Stark thought, as Szayel retreated and sheathed Fornicares, _at least one of us does._

'And if it means that much to you,' Grimmjow added to Szayel Aporro's back, 'I'll try not to piss on the walls and mark the corners either.'

Stark slapped his forehead. Szayel Aporro sighed and rolled his eyes – Lilinette bent over laughing, making Grimmjow grin wide.

'You know, I am starting to blame you for his behavior,' Stark muttered, pleased by the fact that Lilinette was still amusing herself. 'You're encouraging him like there's no tomorrow.'

'Is there a tomorrow?' the girl shrugged, then winked. 'What do you always say about the carp?'

'Carpe Diem,' Stark shrugged.

'…quam minimum credula postero,' Szayel completed in a low mutter.

'Never learned the rest of the poem,' the Segunda shrugged, showing his hands in his pockets.

'Just enough to get you laid, huh?' Grimmjow purred, and Stark honestly shrugged again, with a gesture that could only have been interpreted as _'pretty much, yeah.'_

'Too bad,' Szayel Aporro sighed, tucking his hair behind his ear. 'It would have been fitting, in world we seek to render God-less once more.'

Ishida perked, looking at Lilinette in surprise; even Renji stopped struggling against the container, and let his lower jaw hang. Tesla gasped, and drew to a corner, shivering. Not an intelligent move, judging by Szayel Aporro's quick, cutting glance.

Grimmjow's blue eyes narrowed and glittered dangerously; he was, after all, the only one that had not kept his despise of Aizen secret. He grinned, his teeth gleaming as sharply as Szayel's glasses. He then amusedly glanced at Stark, but said nothing, instead casually striding to the side, to look at the imprisoned Shinigami.

Grimmjow was far less dumb than he acted.

_Sloth, lust and wrath. _

'So, dude,' Grimmjow said, looking over his shoulder to meet Stark's glance, 'You finally came back with the program. Was wondering when _you_ would fucking wake up and smell the sweet fragrance of Shinigami shit.'

'Well,' Stark said simply, 'now I am, up.'

_Perhaps pride and greed, too. We each have more than enough of those. _

'Good,' the Sexta growled. 'About time to piss and mark the corners of Aizen's little world.'

_The only thing we're missing is gluttony._ Stark thought, yawning. _Good thing, otherwise we'd be God-like perfect._

* * *

'So, now you know,' Lilinette said.

She sat down on the floor, in front of the Quincy's container, legs crossed around Nel. The toddler giggled and softly reached for a strand of Lilinette's hair, twisting it to tickle the Fracction's nose. Lilinette sneezed, and tickled the baby Arrancar in her turn.

Szayel had retired to another side room of his vast maze, probably tinkering with the wall so he would make them impenetrable to prying eyes and ears. He still passed through the main chamber from time to time, Verona hopping comically on his heels, but he lent no attention to his prisoners which, at the moment, was reassuring.

'That's why you didn't want to fight me,' Ishida said softly, looking up at Stark. 'That's why you healed Renji.'

'Yeah,' Stark nodded. He thoughtfully glanced at the Quincy. 'We can do much against the other Espada,' the Segunda said, softly. 'But it will not be enough against Aizen himself. I needed the Gotei to understand we will help them, or at least stand out of their way before we start to pointlessly slaughter each other. Hopefully, I have accomplished that. The woman captain of the 4th division seems wise enough.' He hesitated for a moment, then sat down besides Lilinette and yawned, making the girl slap him painfully across the shoulder. 'Ow!' he grunted. 'Why did I deserve that?'

'If you fall asleep now I will bust your balls for _real_,' the Fracction muttered. 'Would you bloody sit down?' Lilinette snapped at Renji. 'You can't break the container, for fuck's sake!'

'You tell him, kid,' Grimmjow snickered from somewhere behind.

'Do sit down, you're giving me a headache,' Stark pleaded in his turn. 'I so dislike agitation…Besides,' he added suddenly looking mischievous, 'you realize you're giving Szayel Aporro reasons to think up a thousand different ways of calling you stupid.'

'In Latin,' Grimmjow completed.

'_Stultus_,' Szayel Aporro snickered, shuffling by.

Giving up, Renji let himself fall off his feet, and leaning his back against the glass, imitating Ishida's posture. To reward his surrender, Lilinette darted to the panel and pressed the button that allowed his voice to be heard.

'I am shocked at your knowledge of this place,' Stark lazily remarked.

'I play hide and seek with Verona.' Lilinette answered, with a wink. 'She does not get that I shouldn't be finding her all the time, which makes it all the cooler. He he!'

'What do you plan to do with us?' Renji asked. His voice was hoarse from all the silent shouting, and he coughed to adjust it.

'I'd keep you as a pet. Always wanted a big giant cockroach with red hair,' Lilinette laughed. 'Maybe Szayel Aporro could make you into one.'

'Not funny,' Stark remarked, watching Renji clench his hand on Zabimaru's hilt, and she shrugged. 'The fact that you are still alive though you are in our power should provide some guarantee that our intentions of not interfering with the Gotei's march are genuine. And, once we are rid of Aizen, we will need to be rid of the rest of you as well,' Stark continued. 'I assume your captains would not reject having you back in exchange for a silent withdrawal from Hueco Mundo. Your kind should know it does not belong here, anyway. It upsets the _balance._'

Ishida cringed at the powerful and hateful vibration the words had carried, in spite of the soft, indifferent tone on which they had been uttered.

'I thought…' Renji began, then coughed again. 'I thought,' he reiterated more powerfully, 'that your kind would be grateful and loyal to Aizen after he empowered you with the Hongyaku…'

'Depends, dude,' Grimmjow answered, in Stark's stead. 'Oh, Quincy reiatsu,' he remarked, sniffing at the air. 'That's a rare treat…But yeah, some of them are grateful and loyal. Some of us are just grateful,' he snickered. 'Fuck loyalty. Ain't that supposed to go both ways?'

Renji frowned.

'Loyalty,' Grimmjow continued. 'Trust, honor in combat and all that shit. Your Aizen doesn't get the concepts too well. But then,' he grinned wolfishly, 'you oughta know that better than I do, Shinigami scum.'

'Do I detect a mild whiff of the disillusioned idealist?' Stark ironically asked, tilting his head back to aim a sleepy glance at the Sexta.

'Ain't that why you let Lilinette pester me all the time? Because I am a bloody idealist?' Grimmjow shot back. 'And she can't pick _that _shit up from you, can she?'

'Nah. He just sends me to ya when he wants to sleep,' the girl giggled, choosing not to notice the shadow that quickly passed over Stark's features.

'Point is,' Grimmjow continued, 'I am a sick sociopathic fuck. Always have been, always will be. I lack the perception of _fear_. I only respect. An' while I have lots of respect for strength, I ain't got no respect for whips and carrots. I followed Aizen because I respected his strength, but that's not meant to say he owns me. You never own a cat, the cat freaking tolerates you.' He manically cackled.

'When I went out and picked my own fight, like I always did and will do 'till the end of bloody eternity – snap! The whip cracks and fucking Tousen takes my arm. Then, when it looks like I'm sufficiently cowed, out comes the carrot and your Inoue Orihime gives me my arm back, _juuust_ in time for me to serve to greater glory.'

He unconsciously flexed the fingers of his left hand.

'When Aizen crossed into this world for the first time, he promised to enhance our strength; he never mentioned anything about bloody obedience, or rankings, or fucking mutilating me just to humiliate me. The bastard forgot an universal truth for any bloody world, no matter if it's Heaven or Hell - when you try to rule by fear, there can be no question of any fucking loyalty. Least of all from me.' He dryly concluded.

'I understand,' Renji answered, finding that, despite himself, he did truly understand.

'Like I give a shit if you do or don't,' Grimmjow shrugged, turning away.

Stark smiled and bit his lower lip hearing the patter of Verona's feet behind.

'Is the room ready, finally?'

'Szayel Aporro-sama predicted you would ask that question, and the answer is yes.' The fraction chattered. 'He also instructed me to tell you that the word 'finally' clearly demonstrates…uhm…'

'My limited intellectual strength and a severe lack of understanding for the complexity of the process,' Stark sighed, lazily getting up. Had its features allowed the expression, Verona might have frowned.

'Yes,' it answered. 'Precisely that.'

Lilinette laughed, and he ruffled her hair. Still, Ishida noticed, Stark was not there – the gesture had been a reflex. The Segunda's eyes reflected nothing of the kindness or relaxation in the gesture; in fact, it seemed to reflect the exact opposite feelings: rage, anxiety…concentration. Despite his demonstrative confidence, Stark was concerned, and, perhaps, unlike Grimmjow, he still preserved the perception of fear. The Fracction had not missed it, her fingers brushing gently with the man's as she stood in her turn.

Pulling her a few feet away from the containers, but keeping away from the still open door of the side room, Stark kneeled to match her height and looked intently in her eyes.

'Lilinette,' he whispered, so softly that Ishida leaned over to hear the words; the Espada caught the gesture, turned his head and frowned, clearly signalling that whatever he was about to say was unfit for the Quincy's ears. Ishida leaned back, but still sharpened his sense of hearing. 'You wanted the two of us to fight, and we will. But I need to make sure we will survive as well.'

The girl had nodded.

'We will go into that room, together, and you will hear me say things that you have never heard me say before. And after that, you will see me do things I have never done before, in your presence.'

'So?' the Fracction had shrugged, forgetting to keep her voice low. 'I've seen you do plenty of stuff...'

'Nothing like this,' the Espada refuted, leaving her no room for argument. 'If you have any doubt that we will walk out of that room _together_, I want you not to follow me in there. Do you understand?' he asked, his voice completely melting away, as he traced his thumb across the girl's round cheek. 'Don't answer me just yet. Think about it.'

Stark stood; before following Grimmjow into the side room, he looked down and smiled, the expression almost as fake as Nemu's. Lilinette watched him disappear beyond the doorframe, and hesitated for a few moments, shifting her wheight from one foot to the other and biting her full lower lip. She had glanced thoughtfully at Nel, who she still held in her arms, then at Tesla, the look in her eyes once again reminding Ishida of her true age.

'Don't worry, ugly Shinigami guy. We can pretend to be friends for a while, now.' Lilinette suddenly giggled to Renji's surprised glance. 'You'll be ok. Well, prolly 'xcept for that one,' she said, pointing at Kurosutchi, in spite of the fact that Nel was stubbornly trying to unroll her shoulder high glove. 'When we're all done, I'm gonna tell Szayel Aporro to boil him.'

She put Nel down, pointing her to Verona's attention, then disappeared in the side room; the door slid closed behind her. For a few moments, the laboratory remained silent and dark.

'Grimmjow Jaguerjack,' Renji muttered, softly. 'The one who almost killed Rukia.'

'Yes,' Ishida answered, on the same tone.

'And Szayel Aporro Grantz,' the Shinigami continued, 'who almost served our heads to us on a silver platter.'

This time, the Quincy only nodded.

'Why is it then,' Renji whispered, 'that it's the _other_ one who gives me the creeps?'

Ishida didn't know either.

* * *

Up next - The greater of three evils.

And in case you were wondering what is with the Latin quotations, I'll be off to the Eternal City in a couple of weeks. Brushing up on my Horatio and Virgil...Unlike Szayel Aporro, I do need an excuse to remember this stuff :)


	17. The Diving Bell and the Butterfly

A long chapter to keep you occupied through a five-to-six day break. In passing, it is worth mentioning for those of you who do not know (not that I do, but a random guy on a Szayel smut page does), that the kanji of Szayel Aporro spell 'Hell Butterfly', thus the name of the chapter.

I am, as always very greatful for your reading and commenting :)

Warnings - None, but some language does occur.

Chapter 17 - Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the meanest of them all?

* * *

Stark looked away when Lilinette walked in, leaning his cheek on his palm, and looking as detached and sleepy as ever. Opposite the table, Grimmjow had narrowed his eyes and made no remark to her presence, while Szayel Aporro had grinned – the kind of grin that Stark would have liked to erase by clearly ripping off the Octava's head, and burying it a hundred feet in the sand. With her in the room, Szayel must have felt safe. Perhaps he was safe, to a certain extent, yet…on this occasion, not safe enough.

The Segunda looked at his Fracction through the corner of his eyes; Lilinette smiled confidently, and it took all of his willpower to still his reiatsu.

This time, Stark thought, with a deep sigh, Szayel Aporro was wrong to think himself a step ahead of the situation. Even with Lilinette present, the Octava would still be wrong in working his predictions; a rare event, and clearly a fitting herald to the end of the world as all of them knew it.

As soon as Lilinette had sat down beside Stark, four tripods placed by the corner of the table had started humming, a low, barely perceptible sound that had nonetheless made Grimmjow cringe.

'Szayel Aporro, I swear you do this crap on purpose…' he muttered.

'Would you prefer a sudden visit from Ulquiorra?' Szayel purred in return. He sat, thin graceful fingers patiently entwined on the table before him. 'You only have one Caja Negacion, Grimmjow.'

'I could take him even without the Caja Negacion,' Grimmjow protested. 'I didn't want to waste time…'

'Be careful, you may have to put your money where your mouth is, soon enough' Szayel chuckled.

The Sexta waved his hands to dismiss the words, and leaned back on the chair, with a half bored, half concerned expression; he remained silent for a few seconds, looking at Lilinette.

'Yo, kid,' he began. 'You sure you wanna be sitting here? Everything that you hear and say will be dangerous to you, in case we fail. Which has a high chance of happening. Maybe you ought to keep your nose outta this, for a change.'

'Nah, I'm fine,' Lilinette answered, swinging her leg under the table.

Stark looked up, not knowing whether or not to be grateful to Grimmjow for his attempt. He caught the Sexta's glance, and thought he saw a note of reproach – strange an expression in Grimmjow's blue eyes. He had never had a Fracction; most Espada had put it down to the fact that no one could tolerate his presence for more than a few minutes, and that the Sexta himself was hard pressed in tolerating anyone around him. Both things were perhaps true, and perfectly in the nature of felines, yet, there was a third note to Grimmjow's choice – in his strong sense of fairness, Grimmjow had always kept his odd temptation of staring over the brink of the abyss to himself.

'Maybe he is right, Lilinette,' Stark began slowly. He hated having to seriously speak to her in front of the other two, and he knew he had no chance of success. 'There is little you will be able to do anyway – you cannot stand up to a full captain class, and the only one among our esteemed Espada that you could face up to is Yammy…'

Lilinette smirked, blushed and opened her mouth, ready to utter an acidic reply; it was Szayel who spoke before her.

'I believe you are being unfair to Lilinette,' the Octava said sweetly, not looking to Stark, but to the girl. 'She _can _stand up to a captain class – she has more than thoroughly proved her powers, and her worthiness to a seat at this table against vice-captain Abarai…'

'Your suppressor was in place,' Stark observed, in a stronger tone than the statement warranted.

'I have many suppressors that can be deployed in the location of your choosing,' Szayel returned, without taking note of the threat. 'Besides, there are many Fracctiones to contend with, that are far beneath us, but just right for Lilinette; Loly and Menoly are decorative only, they can be hastily dealt with before they can even get in our way, and Halibel has three fully grown Arrancar that the three of us would rather not bother with…'

'Don't make me laugh,' Grimmjow grinned. 'Lilinette cannot possibly deal with any one of the three, except, perhaps for SunSun, if Sun's is in emo mode... I have some,' he continued, his grin growing wider, '_experience _with Apache…Dude, the woman's an animal – she growls, she spits, she kicks, she claws…I can only imagine what she does when she's not in bed.'

'I could handle her,' Lilinette rebelliously muttered.

'Of course you could,' Szayel cooed. 'So, please, relax, Lilinette, you are more than welcome to stay.' The Fracction huffed, and pressed herself deeper in the chair, anchoring herself to the arm rests.

'If it's _our_ fights, it's _our_ fights,' she muttered to the Segunda. 'Don't even fucking try.'

Stark's fingers cracked from the speed at which he'd extended them.

'Fine,' he said, biting his lower lip, and finally sitting up straight.

He had not only lifted his face from his palm, but the crookedness in his shoulders was gone. Stark was, indeed, the tallest, Lilinette thought, grinning a little.

'So,' he said, 'we all know why were are here. Is there need for a statement of intentions?'

'I think I've fucking been making mine for the past nine months,' Grimmjow muttered. 'An' whatever Szayel says, we all know it's a bloody lie, so he can stay the hell quiet for once.'

'I would say it is obvious,' Szayel Aporro said, softly. 'We are here because the end of the world is upon us - if Aizen _does _win against the Gotei, there is a certain one among us who knows he will never be the top of the food chain again. That is not me – I am a humble scientist who only requires the leeway to take things apart and put things together… and it most certainly is not you, Adjucha…I mean, Grimmjow. Throughout all your life, you were not even close.'

Lilinette frowned.

'Let us then, have just _one _statement of intentions. So Lilinette correctly understands what we are doing here. What did you tell her, Stark?' the Octava sweetly continued, as Stark crossed his arms over his chest. 'That you are doing this to make sure that the Gotei will not sterilize Hueco Mundo in their passage? That you are doing this to dislodge the unwelcome Shinigami intruders, who seek to destroy us all, one by one?'

'Is that not a good enough reason?' Stark responded, crossing his arms over his chest.

'It is a perfectly valid one, but not a true one,' Szayel cackled, and even Grimmjow allowed himself a wide, devilishly knowing grin. 'We should start out on an honest footing at least. The reason why Stark is doing this, dear Lilinette,' the Octava began, kindly, 'is because unlike the rest of us, he did not really need to be enhanced. He was already as strong as he could have been, and he gained nothing more than a full human shape from his Hongyaku transformation. And with yours, Lilinette, he actually lost.'

'Eh?' Lilinette asked.

'Indeed,' Szayel purred further. 'The Hongyaku alone was not sufficient to give you your dainty little body. You were not far enough in your evolution. So he actually fed some of his own reiatsu into the gem, along with Aizen's…Enough reiatsu, apparently, to make him drop beneath Barragan. Before that, pretty Lilinette, Stark dwarfed us all, with Aizen's exception; after it, he was relegated to humble second…well, if we truly consider it, he was relegated to fifth, as now Aizen, Gin, Tousen _and_ Barragan are above him.'

'And though he tried to keep his ego in check, though he tried every possible method of distracting himself from what he had lost, your Espada,' Szayel concluded, ignoring the brewing storm in Stark's reiatsu, 'cannot truly tolerate not being the top of any hierarchy for long. His ego is even more hyper inflated than mine. And Aizen chopped at it slowly and steadily for the past year, shoved his authority in his face, with all of the tea gatherings and throne room councils…Exactly as taking Grimmjow's arm, only slightly more subtle, more painful, and stretched over a longer period of time. Unlike Grimmjow, however, and ironically, much like myself,' Szayel snickered, 'your Stark has no inherent respect for strength. When he perceives power greater than his own, he does not submit – or at least, he only submits for long enough until the time is right to demolish. He has done that very successfully for the past two centuries, and, as far as I hear, after he evolved, he never allowed any other Hollow to even rival his strength…He killed all those that may have grown above him in good time. Now, Aizen will begin his invasion of the human world; he is at his most vulnerable point. It is a good moment to strike, a good moment for Stark to do as he always has, and take his place back. On top of the food pyramid, unquestioned, just as before Aizen crossed over.'

'It is a question of safety,' Stark snarled, suddenly leaning forward, and not even realizing he had just admitted Szayel's words were true.

'Yeah dude, whatever you say,' Grimmjow laughed. 'I can see an army of Adjuchas chewing on your leg as we speak. Let's not hide behind our hands, shall we?'

'You never told me about…'Lilinette whispered, frowning.

'I did not think it was necessary,' Stark answered, clenching his jaws. 'It is not as if I had sat on a throne dispensing orders; there was no hierarchy and no official standings. I was however sufficiently powerful for all others to keep their distance from me…from us. Unlike now.'

He shot a murderous stare at Szayel Aporro's sweet smile, but did not argue further.

'I want _him_ out of the way. It is enough.'

Stark took a shaky, deep breath, stubbornly looking away from his Fracction.

'And when things will get back to their rightful order, you know all too well that I have no interest in keeping anyone in line – just at a distance.' He said, mostly to Grimmjow. 'I continue to mistrust all systematizers and I avoid them. The will to concede to a system reflects a lack of personal integrity.' He said slowly. 'As far as I am concerned, everyone can do as they bloody well like. But I will not fight anyone else's wars.'

'A thoroughly nice realization, after you have already accepted their weapons,' Szayel Aporro mused.

'Indeed,' the Segunda snapped, furiously. 'Yet, when you hand someone a sword, you should fucking consider that they might use it against you. I am not a lower being who has spent its life waiting to be upgraded by God's grace, and I, _most of all_, shall not be converted to a pawn of the Shinigami, regardless of my own position after this is over. Is that enough of a statement?' he asked, and Szayel Aporro shrugged amusedly.

'Are _we_ on level?' he growled towards Lilinette, slightly bowing his head. The girl started to shyly nod.

'Not by a long shot,' Szayel whispered, as if to himself, lowering his pointy chin to his chest. 'Not by a long shot.' Though she had heard him, she had looked away.

In his turn, Grimmjow had stretched and cracked his fingers in a suggestive manner.

'So, who's gonna whack what?' he asked, deeming no introduction was necessary. 'Let's not waste time with blabbering. Give me,' he purred, leaning forward, 'a target.'

'Before I pick Ulquiorra, all on my own.' He added, with a wide grin. 'How I'd smash his little heart-shaped face in…'

'I do not want anyone to fight above their means at the moment,' Stark interrupted. 'Though you could, probably, under the best of circumstances, defeat Ulquiorra,' he added, more for Grimmjow's satisfaction than because he was truly convinced, 'you would be too seriously wounded to take on anyone else after him. They are seven, and we need to proceed wisely. We need to dispense with the lower echelons without hurting ourselves too much, so we have enough strength to deal with the upper layers.'

'I could not agree more.' Szayel Aporro nodded, smiling in a way that let Stark know his logic was thoroughly unexpected. 'I could probably do Tousen,' the Octava offered.

''ow?' Grimmjow snickered.

'In more ways than you can imagine, actually,' Szayel purred, with a luscious smile. 'And with less damage than you would take _doing_ Ulquiorra.'

'That would be one, down.' Stark said, dryly. Though he doubted everything else about Szayel Aporro, he at least trusted that the Octava did not engage in battles he could not win easily. 'Yammy should be dealt with easily as well. Grimmjow and Lilinette can – and should – be able to get him out of the way quickly and cleanly.'

'Where d'ya wanna keep him, then?' Lilinette asked.

The room fell silent.

'No, really. I don't think even Szayel Aporro's unbreakable containers can keep Yammy in for too long.'

Grimmjow's eyebrows jerked upwards, his eyes burning into Stark's.

_Do you wanna tell her, or should I?_

Stark clenched his jaws.

_By all means…_

'Lilinette,' Grimmjow said, slowly. 'We won't be keeping him, anywhere, kid.'

The girl swallowed dry, and looked to Stark; the Segunda did not return the glance.

'This ain't a trial run, kiddo,' Grimmjow added, kindly. 'There's gonna be blood here….'

'I can do…blood,' she said, her round features suddenly looking sharp.

'Also, there is probably some amount of unrecoverable physical damage,' Stark added, softly.

'Death,' Szayel Aporro concluded, with obvious satisfaction.

'You can't mean you are planning to kill Yammy!' Lilinette breathed; Szayel Aporro did not even bother to withhold a chuckle.

For a moment, Stark had allowed himself to hope she would stand and dart out of the room; Lilinette had killed before, just like all of them had, but she had killed for food or to defend herself, not for the pleasure of the chase, like Szayel Aporro, never on impulse, like Grimmjow, and not tactically, like himself. She had never done it since she had recovered her human body. Her memories of having done it were probably vague, or even non-existent.

'Then, excuse me,' Lilinette muttered. 'How can this be for _our_ protection, if we start actually killing our own?'

'This is not about defense, pretty Lilinette,' Szayel Aporro purred. 'This is about supremacy. What part of the previous conversation did you miss? I would be more than pleased to repeat it.'

'All those who may survive sit in this room right now,' Stark said, softly and sternly. 'We probably won't finish those who stand down, but, as the Gotei ooze might have learned from his dealings with Szayel Aporro, is that things that are not dead can always turn against you. I personally was never too fond of surprises. Sit.'

It had not been his command, but rather his reiatsu to keep her in place, her body suddenly locked in mid-motion of leaving the chair.

_Sooner or later…_

'We are not only planning to kill Yammy.' He continued, not looking at her. 'By the end of this, we expect to do away with Ulquiorra, Halibel and Barragan, as well.'

'Halibel…'Lilinette softly echoed.

'I will take Halibel at the opportune moment,' Stark continued. 'Probably in the real world, after she has sustained some form of injury; she can actually do some damage to me as well, so the weaker she is when I turn, the better.'

He did not need to look at Lilinette – the tremendous grin of satisfaction on Szayel Aporro's face was enough to tell him she was utterly crushed.

'This is not the kind of fight I meant, Stark,' she whispered.

'Tough. It's the only kind of fight I do,' the Segunda snarled in return. 'Time is running short and I will not spend any more time on discussing this with you, least of all in the presence of third parties. You have had three warnings, but you decided to stay; all decisions have consequences. Dealing with consequences makes you _grow up_.'

'Life's a bit more complicated than kicking things till they give up, kiddo,' Grimmjow whispered in his turn, with unbecoming kindness.

'I thought you loved her,' Lilinette protested faintly, not even hearing Grimmjow, her strength failing against Stark's reiatsu just as her voice faded. 'You said you loved her.'

'The fact that I fucked her does not imply anything of the sort.' Stark answered, dryly, and Lilinette gave in, falling back into her seat. He felt her desperately trying to meet his glance, but did not concede; it was the first time in her two hundred years of consciousness that he acted without telling her what he planned, and it was perhaps his betrayal of the trust they had always shared to shock her most.

Yet, there truly was no time to protect her feelings – not if he meant to protect _her _– she would probably not actively fight, but she had to know the plan, so she could keep out of the way of the battles.

'After we have cleaned up our trail here, we shall collaboratively take down Barragan.' Stark off-handedly continued.

'Should have a hand from the Gotei as well, on the ol' fox,' Grimmjow nodded. 'If seeing you go after Halibel is not gonna convince them we're a good hand to have, nothing will. The only thing you need to watch, Stark, is that you don't squish any of them Shinigami flies in the process. That wouldn't make you look too friendly.'

Stark looked to Lilinette just as she had finally turned her head to the side.

'Taking on Halibel in the real world is not a bad idea,' Szayel nodded, at length. 'The Garganta should be closed at nightfall…'

'How d'ya know?' Grimmjow asked.

'The security of Gin's systems is hopelessly lax,' the Octava shrugged. 'He watches me, just as I watch him. And the eye in the sky,' he added, gesturing towards the ceiling, but obviously meaning 

to point at the false blue dome of Las Noches, 'watches us all. Which is why the decision of not going after Halibel or Barragan in Las Noches is a good one.'

'That leaves us Yammy and Ulquiorra to deal with before nightfall,' Grimmjow smiled, the excited expression on his face spelling pain and disaster.

'Ulquiorra is still not about, by the way,' Szayel purred. 'I have been scanning for him continuously, he seems to have vanished into thin air. And by this time, the Caja Negation would have dissolved on its own. In my educated opinion, he is either in his tower or in the throne room; those are the only two chambers constructed out of sekki stone, where my sensors cannot penetrate.'

'Well, those two rooms and your bedroom, Szayel Aporro,' Stark put in, with the first grin since the conversation had started.

'Dude, I don't even wanna know how you know that,' Grimmjow snickered.

'My bedroom is not constructed out of sekki stone,' the Octava answered, snappily. 'I could not get permission for that. It is merely lined with sekki stone, as is this room. Good enough to hide us if no one is looking, but not good enough to keep us concealed forever.'

'How are we planning to take down Arlecchino?' Grimmjow inquired, returning to his favorite topic.

'Oh, a correct and rich theatrical reference,' Szayel said, his eyes growing wide. 'I am in awe!'

'Just enough to get me laid, Szayel Aporro,' Grimmjow grinned. 'I can do Ulquiorra…'

'No,' Stark refuted, briskly. 'I will get Ulquiorra. If he is in a room that conceals reiatsu, all for the best – I can fight him and no one will take notice.'

'He'll seriously kick you around tho', dude,' the Sexta remarked. 'If you take him alone, you won't be in any shape to appear before God when he rings the bell, not to mention take out Halibel later.'

'I agree,' Stark responded. 'That is why I will not attack Ulquiorra alone.'

He looked to Szayel.

_Let's see those pretty wings flap, butterfly._

Szayel Aporro did not disappoint, his long eyelashes fluttering as he leaned back on the chair.

'Me?' he asked, adjusting his glasses. 'I am flattered.'

'No,' Stark answered. 'Neliel.'

'Be serious,' Grimmjow laughed incredulously. 'Neliel cannot possibly fight in the shape that she's in…'

'That is why Szayel Aporro will return her to her true form while you deal with Yammy.'

He had half expected a theatrical gasp, but apparently, Szayel was not in the mood. Soft lips drawn tightly together over perfect teeth, the Octava bowed his head and looked at Stark over the rims of his glasses. He then tilted his head to the side, letting his gaze slip to Lilinette, in a reference that neither Stark nor Grimmjow missed.

'You don't wanna be playing at this, Szayel Aporro,' Grimmjow warned, in a low hiss.

'The fuck I don't,' Szayel Aporro answered, in the same tone. 'I refuse.' He completed, his voice returning to normal. 'There was a reason why I transformed Neliel; the reason has not faded. I will not unlock her reiatsu and allow you to place her before Ulquiorra within minutes of her having recovered.'

'Do not be stubborn, Szayel Aporro,' Stark sighed.

'Do you want me to count in how many different languages and dialects I can say 'No'?' the Octava sweetly inquired. 'Don't press it.'

'We need her,' Grimmjow pushed. 'You're not at her level, yet. You cannot stand up to a power-type Bankai without your toys.'

'Oh, a tactical decision,' Szayel snickered. 'The reborn high commander needs more soldiers than he has?'

'Do not make me explain things you already understand.' Stark growled. 'I have told you what you are meant to do, and you will do it…'

His fists clenched, in open threat, but it did not help.

'I have already said that I refuse,' Szayel snapped, his voice no longer sweet and his glance no longer filled with honey. 'If you need more Vasto Lorde level presences, there are multiple other _evolution_ possibilities to explore…'

His chair flew back against the wall and his voice vanished as Stark's clenched fist opened; the force of the blow had been such that the chair had shattered into pieces, and Szayel had not had the strength to utter more than a whimper.

'Get out, Lilinette,' Stark growled, not in a single voice, but in a chorus of thousands.

'What the fuck?' the girl shrilled. 'I ain't moving an inch. You gonna kill him? For saying no?'

'Leave…the…room…now,' the Segunda commanded not taking his eyes off Szayel's tortured features, his voice so deep that the floor vibrated.

'No. You made me stay, now I'm gonna stay…' Lilinette protested, darting to her feet – the gesture was pointless.

'You have already heard everything you needed to hear. Grimmjow,' Stark commanded, looking her way and frowning; the Sexta was there to catch her when she flew helplessly back, like a snow flake caught in a hurricane. Her back stopped securely against Grimmjow's chest, and the man's arm crossed her stomach, catching her in an iron grip. Within a second, he had safely dropped her thirty feet outside the door.

'Don't argue. He's right. This has nothing to do with you,' Grimmjow had whispered in her ear before the door had slipped in place, securely separating the Fracction from the Espada. It did not matter how much she kicked and punched it – as unyielding as the material that made up the containers, the door would not even bend.

She could not even feel _him _beyond the sekki stone, Lilinette realized, turning away with her fists and teeth clenched, feeling more rage than she had ever felt in her entire existence. It was as if, for the first time since she could remember, Stark truly did not want to be found or heard.

'So, in the end…' Szayel Aporro managed to breathe, 'you are a coward…'

The grip of Stark's reiatsu on his throat cut of his voice once more; he whimpered, clenching his teeth, but did not relent, his hand slipping inch by torturous inch towards Fornicares' hilt.

'Do not ever try to blackmail me again, Szayel Aporro,' Stark hissed, each of his words a cutting blade. 'Your balls are too small for the endeavor.'

'Ya, dude, don't be such a sad fuck,' Grimmjow completed, letting himself fall heavily in his seat. 'Know when you've lost.'

'Why…not,' the Octava whispered. 'Why not? The timing is perfectly right…for this. The timing is right for…everything,' he added, each word wheezing painstakingly out of his chest. 'If Lilinette became a Vasto Lorde now, she could…probably…outdo Neliel. She has not only the Hongyaku and Aizen's reiatsu, but yours as well, Stark. If she remembered, if she evolved…'

'That is not even an option,' the Segunda snarled, slowly.

'Why?' Szayel breathed, feeling the other's reiatsu falter. 'Simply because you _still_ cannot tell her it was you…'

'Enough!' Stark whispered; Szayel's shoulders pressed into the stone, his left arm flying helplessly to the side. Beyond all norms of sanity, the Octava pushed on.

'…you still cannot tell her that it was _you_ who let her die, all those centuries ago. You still cannot tell her that you are the cause of her rage, the cause of her punishment…And that she is the cause of yours…the cause of the guilt that ate you alive, that still eats at you…'

'Be quiet,' Stark hissed. 'Be quiet, else…'

'That you know the truth about her mortal life, you hold the key to the thing she most desires, but you keep it from her, willingly, trapping her into a form she despises, but which allows _you_ to feel like there can be atonement, like there can be…absolution, for yourself. Light in your darkness.'

'You won't take her from me,' The Segunda growled, and this time, Szayel screamed in earnest, feeling the bones of his left arm crack like twigs. 'No one can take her from me. Not Aizen, not you…no one. You will transform Neliel…'

'Why?' Szayel snickered, in spite of the pain. 'So you can protect the one you love at the expense of the one I love? You selfish bastard! I…'he whispered, hopeless strands of pink reiatsu whipping across a wall of fangs, 'I will not turn Neliel. You cannot force me – the moment you try to, I will tell Lilinette _what _you are. It will take no more than a whisper, no more than a breath…and she will know, and she will _never _look at you as she does now, and you will finally know what Hell has been like for the rest of us, who always faced it alone...'

'You'd never draw another breath,' Stark said.

'Do you think…I care?' Szayel laughed; the whips of his reiatsu became cutting and the Segunda frowned, allowing his grip to loosen enough for Szayel to fall to the floor leaning on one 

knee. The Octava looked up, light darting across his mask. 'Why do you think I came as a Vasto Lorde, Stark?' he hissed, finding that he had no strength to stand. 'I have already accepted there can be no atonement, no absolution, I already know I have _lost. _I do not have Neliel, I will never have Neliel, it is a fucking impossibility…of the Universe. I am the monster that I was when I was alive, and though I know Neliel despises it, I _love_ myself this way – I did then, and I do now, I deserve this, all of this... Yet, I love her beyond myself, not for myself, unlike you…'

'I wonder what galls you more,' the Segunda laughed. 'The fact that she never even looked your way, or the fact that you've always known that my fucking her did not imply my loving her?'

'I will not turn her,' Szayel whimpered, feeling that the other's energy kept him on his knees, but not caring in the least. 'I will go straight to Aizen…'

The Segunda laughed, letting his head fall back, and even Grimmjow felt his skin crawl.

'Of course you won't,' Stark said, dryly.

'Try me,' the Octava hissed. 'Whatever Aizen does to me, it will be worth it if I will get to watch what he does to you…'

'You will not go to Aizen,' Stark said, softly. The tremendous pressure of his reiatsu suddenly vanished. 'You will not, because I have Neliel…pretty little Nel.'

Szayel cringed; in spite of the fact that Stark's energy no longer kept him prisoner, he found his knees would not obey him more than his chin. He could not lift his eyes off the floor. He could not believe his ears.

'How long do you think it would take me to snap her throat, Perfect Being?' Stark distractedly asked. 'A whisper? A breath? Do you think you could get to Aizen faster than that?'

The Octava's right knee dropped to the floor alongside his left.

'You thought you had me by the balls with Lilinette, didn't you, Perfect Being.' The Segunda asked, dryly. 'Well, I have you by the balls too, now.'

Almost painlessly, he forced Szayel Aporro to his feet – a flick of his index forced the Octava's eyes to meet his.

'Would you rather I killed her outright, or use her as a shield against Ulquiorra, and give her a chance to survive? I will give her an honest chance, I swear.'

'Please,' Szayel surrendered. 'Please. You love Lilinette…you are selfish, but you truly love her, you know how this feels. Have mercy, please don't force me to choose…'

Stark sighed, shook his head, then smirked.

'You have no sense of sequencing, Szayel Aporro. If you're planning on debating my orders, you need to start with the begging. If you start with threats, it spoils the dramatic effect.'

'I'll tell her,' Szayel whispered. He was not thinking about Lilinette, and they both knew it. 'After I return her to her true form, I'll tell her not to follow you, I'll tell her not to fight…'

'Don't make me laugh,' Stark snickered. 'What will that accomplish?'

The Octava cringed.

'Who do you think Neliel is going to trust more? You, or me?'

Indeed, both of them knew the answer to _that_.

'Get out of my sight,' the Segunda said. Finding no more words, Szayel Aporro turned away, with slow, painful steps. Rotating his shoulder as if the conversation had been physically draining, Stark sat at the head of the table, leaning his lower jaw on his palm.

'Let me reinforce a notion with you, Perfect Being,' he said, making Szayel stop short. 'A notion Aizen himself might have mentioned, but that I feel your tender age has prevented you from fully grasping.'

'It is true,' Stark snarled, 'that I love Lilinette. But in this world, you get to have attachments when you can _afford_ them.'

The door slid open, then shut; silence extended for a few seconds. Stark leaned back on the chair, crossing his forearm over his eyes. Grimmjow snickered.

'Well well,' the Sexta said, at length. 'Really...Welcome back. With all that pretense of sleepy harmlessness, even I had almost forgotten what you're really like, Stark.'

'Keep your eye on the ball, kitty,' Stark whispered. 'You have to keep your eye on the ball at all times.'

* * *

_**Non-Bleach Commentary.**_

_**The Diving Bell and the Butterfly**_ is a translation of the French memoir _Le scaphandre et le papillon_ by journalist Jean-Dominique Bauby. It describes what his life is like after suffering a massive stroke that left him with a condition called Locked-In syndrome. **Locked-In syndrome** is a condition in which a patient is aware and awake, but cannot move or communicate due to complete paralysis of nearly all voluntary muscles in the body. The condition has been described as "the closest thing to being buried alive". In French, the common term is "maladie de l'emmuré vivant", literally translated as walled-in alive disease.

I remembered the title of the book, although I have not read it; I have however seen the movie. I had this scene in mind, and the combination of the title with Szayel's hopeless predicament made me name the chapter thus. In passing, it bears mentionig that Bauby wrote it by blinking his left eyelid - the only part of his body he could still move. He died of pneumonia two days after the book was published. Be better people than I am, read the book.

**_Back to the Bleach._**

Up next - A sad day for Szayel Aporro, a bloody disastrous day for Yammy.


	18. Repeatable Errors

Yeees, yeees, three hundred more words. Thank you, Maidros :)

Chapter has been updated; the last scene of the fragment has changed significantly, in reflection of suggestions received.

Chapter 18 - Where Kuchiki Byakuya still has five lines. Woe!

'Let's go.' Grimmjow said, alternatively rotating his shoulders, to warm up his muscles. Lilinette looked up and shook her head; she had been sitting on Szayel Aporro's chair, with her knees curled to her chest, staring blankly at the numbers rolling on the screen before her.

Szayel Aporro had come out of the room a few seconds before, and gone past her without even noticing her presence, vanishing into the darkness in the back of the room. The strange reiatsu machine in the corner had begun to hum, a low, irritating vibration that made Lilinette's skin tingle unpleasantly.

She shook her head again, and looked behind Grimmjow, to Stark, who was leaning against the doorframe, eyelids half closed.

'I am angry enough at you not to kick you,' she said, softly, as all other colors of the world faded and became vain between them.

'Yeah,' he shrugged. 'I see you are quickly learning grown up women's ways of busting one's balls.'

'Do you want me out of the way so you can kill Szayel Aporro?'

'No. I would have done it back there, if I meant to do it.' Stark answered dryly. Her stare did not soften.

'You never hid from me before. Why are you suddenly ashamed of being what you are? After what you said about Halibel…What could possibly have been bad enough to make you wanna hide from me?' she asked.

'I told you to think before you entered that room,' the Segunda said, slowly. 'I understood that you didn't, so there was no point for you to stay.'

'I'm thinking now,' Lilinette spat back.

'An' you're thinking shit,' Grimmjow erupted, sudden color in the blank world. 'Let's go, kid. I ain't got time to lose, and I ain't gonna get kicked around by Yammy…'

'Yammy can't beat you,' she said softly.

'No, but he can hurt me a little,' Grimmjow shrugged. 'A little more if you're not there to whoosh around and distract him.' He motioned towards the exit from the chamber.

Lilinette did not take her eyes off Stark.

'Move it or lose it.' Grimmjow repeated, slapping her painfully across the shoulder; the girl reflexively and furiously retaliated by darting up and kicking his shoulder in her turn. 'Ow,' the Sexta exclaimed, with a wide grin and retreating a step to the side. 'You're getting better and better. Now, let's go.'

'I don't think I can kill anyone,' she said, without direction. She landed softly besides the Sexta and looked up at him. The words were not a protest, but a simple, almost regretful statement. Stark's hands clenched in his pockets, but his expression did not change. 'A Shinigami, maybe, but one of our own…'

Ishida tore his glance away from the fascinating sight of the faint, blue lights that ran across Szayel Aporro's forearm, and looked towards the other three in surprise.

'You can try to make him yield, if you think that is appropriate,' Stark shrugged. 'But I can already tell you Yammy will never yield. He is too close to Ulquiorra, and Ulquiorra is, in turn, too close to Aizen.'

'It doesn't matter if he yields or not, I don't was _us_ to kill him…'

'…but you'd want him on my back when I fight Halibel?' the Segunda shot. 'Or even when I fight Ulquiorra, depending on what state you leave him in? Do you think he would let me or you live, given the chance? Don't be a coward, Lilinette.'

She frowned, but did not continue; Grimmjow turned around and started towards the door, and she followed, with small, undecided steps. Before the Sexta started his Sonido and vanished, Lilinette looked over her shoulder, not to Stark, but to Szayel Aporro. The Octava met her glance, but his features remained expressionless. Within the next second, Lilinette, like Grimmjow, was gone.

'You intend to start killing the other Espada?' Ishida asked, faintly. Szayel Aporro did not look away from his arm; in his turn, Stark approached the container and stretched lazily.

'I think your Shinigami friends will salute that particular initiative,' he answered, gazing searchingly at Renji. The red-haired young man frowned but did not respond. 'Not like you made too much progress on your own.'

'You're complete scum,' Renji muttered. 'You'd send a little girl to do your dirty work for you…'

Stark shrugged and turned away.

'Lilinette will not kill Yammy,' he said, blankly. 'Grimmjow will; and I assure you, if you don't already know it, that Grimmjow has no qualms with killing.'

'Then why did you need her to witness something she clearly does not want to see?' Ishida asked. Szayel Aporro stood away from his healing device and answered in Stark's turn.

'I thought it would be obvious,' he said, brushing away the strand of hair that rebelliously fell on his pale forehead. 'He is trying to make her evolve. You might have guessed that from her battle against your friend, vice-captain Abarai.'

'Make her evolve?' the Quincy breathed. 'Into what?'

Szayel Aporro crossed his arms behind his back and smiled, the kind of smile that froze Ishida's blood in his veins.

'Into what she truly is. Into one of _us_,' he put in, dryly.

Stark looked behind him, and Szayel's hair swayed – a subtle trace of reiatsu, a hint of a threat.

'Into a more defensible shape,' the Segunda shrugged again, letting the Octava's words slide off him. 'How long do you estimate your work on Neliel will take?' Stark asked, leaning his back on the wall, lending no further attention to the prisoners and watching the Octava's movements through half closed eyes. 'A precise estimate, if you please, Perfect Being.'

'She should be conscious in slightly under an hour, 'Szayel answered after a few seconds of reluctant consideration.

'What do you want to do to Nel?' Renji asked, suddenly jumping to his feet.

Szayel Aporro frowned at the interruption, then reached for his panels, drowning his prisoners in silence with the touch of a button. With renewed fury, Renji resumed his assault on the glass. 'I have never reversed the process before,' the Octava said, hesitantly. The faint renewed plea found no more sympathy than the ones before it.

'I have full confidence in you,' Stark grinned.

'I am not sure how stable the reversal will be…She was at full strength for a while two or three hours ago – I felt her, I am sure…' Szayel breathed deeply. 'I am sure you must have felt her too. But she reverted to this shape on her own. If that happens while you fight Ulquiorra, Stark…'

The Segunda shrugged.

'I guess, then, that you will have to be extremely careful,' he responded. 'Verona,' he called. The Fracction appeared from a side room, Nel hanging on to its arm and laughing, as she oddly pressed her feet on the side of the Fracction's elastic body. Szayel Aporro cringed visibly when the toddler let go of Verona and ran to jump into Stark's arms.

'You're nice,' she said. 'Nel liketh you almost as much as she liketh Itsygo. And Nel liketh Itsygo a lot.'

'How much does it weigh?' Szayel Aporro asked Verona, adjusting his glasses and trying not to look at Nel.

'Twelve kilograms and five hundred grams,' Verona answered without blinking.

'Who, Nel?' the baby asked, looking up at Stark. He smiled and nodded. 'Why does the meanie want to know how much Nel weighth?' Stark shrugged amusedly.

'No one really understands why he wants to know three quarters of the things he wants to know,' he answered, in a low whisper. 'Let's just play along.'

'But he's a meanie,' Nel protested. 'Nel doesn't play with meanies.'

'What could happen?' Stark responded, with a wink. 'I'm here.'

Unlike the two Arrancar, Verona had already guessed why Szayel had asked the question; it had quickly come up to its master's side, holding a tray covered in perfectly white cloth.

'Anesthethic,' it said, blankly, offering the tray and the two tiny syringes that lay on it to Szayel Aporro. 'Propofol and lidocaine for a local before the propofol…'

He picked up one of the syringes, which was bright pink, and looked at it carefully for a few seconds, examining the dosage.

'Well measured,' he uttered, 'but we cannot use this. We will do halogenated ether instead.'

'But if you said this should take under an hour, Szayel Aporro-sama…' Verona began to protest. 'Propofol is the standard for short lasting procedures…But, of course, we could do halogenated ether if Szayel Aporro-sama wants to,' Verona concluded, bouncing away in obvious disappointment at the fact that its foresight had so easily been dismissed.

'Will this hurt?' Stark asked, with minimal interest; Szayel smirked.

'No, but I need her to be perfectly still,' he answered snappily.

'Eeek,' Nel screamed, and fidgeted in Stark's arms. 'This cannot be good.' In his turn, Stark frowned, holding her tighter to keep her from jumping off, but Szayel Aporro paid no more attention to them than he did to Renji's struggles, which had greatly intensified. He brought his examination table into position; a small, circular dome descended from above, casting an elliptical area of light over the table. As Verona darted around, setting two tall gas containers and a score of tubes and sensors in place, the Octava adjusted the projector's height, then proceeded to adjust its range by placing thin fragments of sekki stone at the edges of the perimeter. The light of the projector curved inwards, looping into the stone.

'You can bring her over,' Szayel said, when he was pleased with the shape and the area – and though Nel hid her face in Stark's shoulder, the Segunda did not hesitate for a second. Ishida jumped to his feet in his turn, as Nel passed from Stark's arms to Szayel's – she promptly bit his hand and stuck her tongue out at him.

'Charming,' Szayel muttered, looking down at her and frowning. Though she had bitten clearly through his glove, the wound had closed immediately. He sprawled the toddler on her back, keeping her still with his right hand while deftly applying the ether mask with his left.

He is left-handed, Stark distractedly thought, wondering why he always forgot the detail, and found it so surprising each time. It only made sense, the Segunda's mind followed, as he bowed his head to disguise a smile and Nel's fidgeting abruptly stopped. Everything about Szayel Aporro was backwards from what it should have been.

'I hope you are not trying to pointlessly delay me by keeping her down more than you should,' Stark warned softly, watching Szayel walk over to his panels. The projector above the table started emitting particles of reiatsu, at first faintly – green specs of sand dancing under the white light.

Szayel's thin fingers clenched; the emission of reiatsu intensified, particles writhing furiously and bouncing off the dome of light as if it had been a physical barrier.

'I am not trying to stall you,' he answered, in a defeated voice. 'I never try to delay the unavoidable. Propofol contains 1 of the active ingredient, 10 soybean oil, 1.2 egg phospholipid and 2.25 glycerol as an emulsifier,' Szayel responded, reciting the words as if he had been reading them out loud from a manual.

'Fascinating,' Stark shrugged. 'I, however, am still missing the point of giving her an anesthetic that takes longer to clear.'

The particles of reiatsu filled the entire dome of light, making it dark green and almost opaque; Nel's hand twitched slightly as her fingers began to grow. Szayel bit his lower lip to the blood, and half turned his head to look at Stark.

'Neliel's human body is allergic to the glycerol,' the Octava answered, with a little sad grin. 'If I would have anesthetized her with that, I would have triggered anaphylactic shock and she would have been dead in minutes.'

He adjusted his glasses, but this time, the tips of his fingers had lingered on his forehead far longer than they should have, as if pressure of his index and middle finger on his brow could have made his budding migraine recede.

'I never make the same mistake twice.'

Not awaiting Stark's answer, Szayel stood, and covered the now teenage girl's body with a white sheet of cloth; she had grown out of her shirt, which was now stretched to the point of breaking over her still boyish chest. There was no affection in the gestures, though they were slightly awkward and slow, and Stark noticed that the Octava clearly did not want to touch her, or be next to her for any longer than he absolutely had to – Szayel placed her arms on top of the sheet, his index and middle fingers lingering on her wrist just enough to feel her pulse, his thumb caressing the back of her tiny hand almost of its own volition.

'I will not let her get needlessly hurt, Szayel Aporro. I am not doing this to spite you, I am doing this because I absolutely need her.' Stark said softly, not knowing why he had uttered the absolutely unnecessary promise. 'She was stronger than Ulquiorra…'

'I do not think that continues to be true.' The Octava answered, his voice boiling with resentment.

'I will be there,' Stark repeated; judging by the look in Szayel's face when he sat back down, the thought was not reassuring in the least.

Unohana sighed, and lowered her head, pointlessly hopeing that the gesture could shut off the chorus of protests and pleas from all around her.

…_can't just leave them at the enemy's mercy…_

Hanatarou, always a good soul.

…_need to get her out soon, she cannot truly function without captain Kurosutchi…_

Isane, too worried about Nemu Kurosutchi, as she always was.

…_what kind of people are you? First Orihime and now Ishida – and Abarai is even one of your own…or do you suspect him of treason as well?..._

…_or is accusing them of treason the easy way of getting rid of the responsibility?..._

Perhaps Kurosaki Ichigo had a point.

…_wanna find the punk…_

Zaraki Kenpachi clearly did not – but no one could ever tell him as much.

…_I will do everything in my power to find Renji…my Renji…_

Kuchiki Rukia, who should not even have been standing.

She looked to her side at Isane, who, this time, instead of being part of the solution, had become part of the problem – she looked as angry and despondent as Kenpachi did. And, of course, the fact that the lieutenant of the 11th division was dangling on her belt-strap with all the wheight of her six-year old body did not help the situation in the least.

'This is disgraceful,' Kuchiki Byakuya sighed, from the side. 'If the enemy is watching, we are all dishonored.'

'…that all you can say?' Kenpachi growled. 'That was your lieutenant in the jar…'

'Ya!' Yachiru completed, with a horrible frown. 'Ken-chan would never leave me like that!'

'Nii-sama, we must help Renji…' Rukia pleaded in her turn, turning her wide blue eyes to her brother; Byakuya sighed again, in a thoroughly theatrical way, that would have made anyone else sound artificial – he simply sounded royal, as always.

He was the one the decision of forming a search party hinged on – Unohana had already expressed her preference for contacting the captain commander before any rescue mission went underway. In real terms, however, Unohana's preference meant little else but a definite 'No' to any rescue attempt. Even on his best days, the captain commander would have hesitated a long time before authorizing such a mission, and this time, when he was occupied with the preparations for Aizen's attack, he was likely to not even respond.

On the other hand, Zaraki Kenpachi agreed with the popular sentiment; he would have charged into Las Noches in the very next minute, had he been on his own. The fact that he was clearly less keen on saving the prisoners than on finding the Espada that had twice evaded him did not make Unohana take him seriously however - their disagreement kept the rest of the Shinigami in place, and made them increasingly angry.

Oddly enough, however, the captain of the 6th, who had yet to express an opinion on the matter of rescuing the four prisoners had not been the target of any pleas thus far; most likely, Unohana thought, in dismay, because all of them knew that once Byakuya spoke his mind, they would have to obey the final vote, and that he was quite likely to let reason prevail over passion.

'Rukia,' he softly recited, 'you are behaving irrationally. While I, much like you, am desperately concerned for vice-captain Abarai, the truth of the matter is that we cannot simply charge at the enemy's fortifications.'

'You don't have to,' Ichigo put in. 'We will.'

'It is precisely this kind of action that caused your present predicament – and, need I remind you, _our_ present position, Kurosaki,' Byakuya answered dryly. 'The captain commander would not be pleased if we did not prevent you from endangering yourselves – we have been told to observe and proceed with caution.'

'I am already feeling guilty enough for letting Rukia go,' he added, in a kind sotto-voce. 'She was almost killed…'

'…and Renji is still in danger!' the girl had exploded, pressing her palms together. 'Please, Nii-sama, you have allowed us both out into Hueco Mundo – and though you've gone out of your way to save _me_, you will not move a finger for him? This contravenes to your honor code…'

'We cannot commence an attack when you are still not fully healed, and in this awkward formation,' Byakuya swiftly returned.

'What's wrong with the formation?' Kenpachi shrugged. 'I'm here!'

'That is not the point,' Unohana responded. 'The core of the issue is the fact that we should not separate – we are weaker alone…'

'So why don't we all go kick some Arrancar ass, like we're supposed to?' Kenpachi grinned, making her sigh and shake her head.

'We should fully recover and regroup first. Are you forgetting that we have thus far suffered serious setbacks simply dealing with Espada ranks lower than five? Captain Kenpachi, even you were hard pressed…' she continued, a mild twinge of irritation in her voice.

'Who? Me? Against that bastard? No way! I just let him cut me a couple of times so he wouldn't give up…'

'Ya! No way!' Yachiru chanted, swinging on Unohana's belt. 'If you don't want to, you can stay here and wait for other orders of the captain commander – in the meanwhile, me and Ken-chan and Ichigo-san could go and get back vice-captain Abarai.'

'As if I needed anyone's help,' Kenpachi muttered under his breath.

'See?' Unohana put in patiently. 'If I somehow had the guarantee that you, captain Kenpachi, and…Ichigo,' she continued, though the word _ryoka _was clearly on her lips, 'would not provoke unnecessary hostility, I would concede to a search.'

'We can keep out of trouble…right, Kenpachi?' Ichigo said under his breath, his words as unconvincing as Kenpachi's approving mutter. Unohana lifted an eyebrow, just to demonstrate her point had been made, and the chorus of protests rose again, even louder than before.

'Nii-sama,' Rukia whispered, hands clenched in the same pleading position. 'If we do nothing…'

Her brother looked down at her, making her desperately wish that he had been less perfectly beautiful, less dignified…less distant.

'Captain Unohana,' Byakuya said, simply, his low, elegant voice suddenly making all the other voices quiet. He took a step forward, stopping to measure Ichigo from head to toe. 'I appreciate your logic. Yet, I cannot simply abandon my vice captain to his fate.'

'Yes!' Ichigo and Kenpachi exclaimed, in a single voice, making Byakuya cringe.

'Captain Kuchiki,' Unohana scolded, her voice full with open reproach. This, above all things, she had not expected. 'I would ask you to reconsider…'

'May I speak with you?' Byakuya asked, looking intently into her eyes. She nodded, and followed him away from the anxious group. 'Do you actually believe that the dark-haired Espada meant what he said?' the captain of the 6th division asked, without introduction, and Unohana looked up sharply. 'I will spare you the embarrassment,' the man continued. 'I do too – and if Kenpachi were less keen on measuring himself against an opponent of his size, he would believe it too.'

'Indeed, I believe it, and though I may be wrong, I am willing to wait a few more hours,' she said softly. 'I know we have come here to thin their ranks – but if there is a chance of avoiding unnecessary conflict, I would take it, Byakuya. The Espada are not easy opponents; there should be seven of them left, four above the fifth rank, and we are only in three…Four, counting the human boy. The one that declared his non-aggressive intentions seemed a high rank. I do not think it is wise to let captain Kenpachi run rampant into Las Noches, and start battles that you or I would avoid.'

'That is why I will go with them,' Byakuya responded, softly but resolutely – Unohana's features showed a mild hint of scorn. 'There is no argument that could change my mind, dear Retsu, so please do not try. Abarai Renji is my lieutenant, and I allowed him to enter Hueco Mundo in spite of the dangers that we both knew lay ahead. He is my responsibility.'

'What should I do, then? Should I join? I am loathe to do so, with Rukia in her present state.' she shrugged.

'Wait for word from the captain commander or await our return…If there is no word from the captain commander until morning, we shall meet at the current position, and resume our search together.' he thoughtfully answered.

Unohana gazed at him for a few seconds, then nodded – though she was far more shy in expressing her true feelings than any of the others, she too wanted to see Abarai and Nemu Kurosutchi safely returned to their midst. If the Espada's intentions were truly what she thought they were, there would be no disastrous battle. Perhaps, she thought distractedly, with Byakuya around, Kenpachi would be less…rambunctious. The notion was dismissed before it was even fully formed.

'Take Isane with you,' she said.

'A smaller party…' Byakuya began declaiming, but Unohana cut him short.

'Do you actually think any stealth would be involved in this, given Zaraki Kenpachi's presence? The entirety of Hueco Mundo knows we are here. I am not debating, I am informing. You will take Isane,' Unohana added, in a tone that allowed no dispute. 'You will require healing.'

The mask cracked, and Kuchiki Byakuya smiled wide– an unnatural expression on his usually stern features. It made him look human and almost unbearably attractive, Unohana thought, with a little smile of her own.

'I concede to your superior wisdom,' he said, in an uncharacteristic voice; had it been anyone else, she would have thought the pronouncement a chuckle. Byakuya bowed briefly, in place of farewell, and turned to the rest of the group. 'I shall go into Las Noches to search for Abarai - Captain Kenpachi, Kurosaki Ichigo and vice-captain Isane will join me. Regardless of the result, we shall return by morning, and we shall resume our mission together.' Byakuya added, in a louder voice, heading back towards the group.

'Yachiru's going,' Kenpachi growled. Not waiting for Byakuya's accord, the little girl jumped on his shoulder, latching her arms about his neck.

'But, Nii-sama, why can't I…' Rukia began to protest, swallowing her words at his indifferent leer.

'You're too weak for now,' He had spoken, and there would be no arguments on the subject; there never were. 'We shall reconvene in the morning.'

The small group formed quickly, and headed away as soon as Isane had grabbed her healing stuffs and returned her captain's zanpakutoh.

'Will you be all right?' Kenpachi asked, as an afterthought. Unohana Retsu bowed her head and smiled kindly, almost humbly, placing her sword on her belt; in his turn, the captain of the 11th division grinned wide, understanding the exact meaning of the gesture, and continued on his way. If any of the Arrancar planned to attack the small group that had stayed behind in their absence, he pitied them deeply.

Scene Break

Neliel Tu opened her eyes – it took her a few seconds to adjust to the bright lights from above, and she blinked rapidly, lifting her forearm to shield her brow. She felt as if she had been sleeping for a long time, deep, restful and dreamless sleep, that left one refreshed and ready to take on the Universe…

Except, of course, for the fact that she had no memory of falling asleep – the last thing she remembered was Nnoitra, and releasing Gamuza against him to defend…a human boy?

_Itsygo…Ichigo._

She frowned, beginning to lift herself to one elbow; she caught the slippery white sheet that covered her body with a reflexive, rapid gesture, then became aware of the warm surface of the iron stretcher she was laying on. Crossing her other forearm over her chest to keep the sheet in place, Neliel jumped to the side, as speedily as if she had been dodging a sword blow. She unconsciously grasped Gamuza's hilt, not even wondering why the sword had been laying aside her. It had returned to her, as had all her reiatsu, and nothing else mattered.

She perceived Szayel Aporro's presence long before her eyes got accustomed to the bland lighting and she could actually see him - he had changed little since she had last seen him slinking in the shadows, always one step behind Cirucci but never truly beneath Cirucci, a dangerous Fracction, a Fracction whose pretense of humility had never fooled anyone. Except, perhaps, Neliel had thought, smirking, for Cirucci herself.

He was perhaps even thinner, or at least the tight shirt of his new uniform – an Espada uniform - revealed how slender he truly was. His hair was a bit shorter, but, Neliel thought, Szayel Aporro was otherwise unchanged - cold, superior and unpleasant eyes behind the thick frames of his mask. He still looked as if the sole reason why the universe functioned was the fact that _he_ understood how everything worked.

'You are feeling well, I see, Neliel Tu.' Szayel Aporro uttered, pressing his glasses upwards on his nose. The sound of his voice made her cringe, and bend over with a sudden rush of pain and memories – cutting, sharp flashes of light and awareness whisking through her mind.

_Pesche and Dondochakka crawling to her feet, their masks forcefully removed. _

_Cowardice. Both of them were cowards. _

_Weakness such as she had never experienced before. _

_Nnoitra's wide grin. _

_Surprise and disgust. _

_Disbelief. _

_A gleam of moonlight on Santa Teresa's blade. _

_A hint of strawberry…weakness, pain…_

_Light sliding over rectangular lenses, making them opaque._

_Nnoitra's wide, insane grin._

After what had felt like months of wondering though a dream wasteland, Neliel Tu returned to herself. She straightened furiously, letting the white sheet fall to her feet, royal and asexual in her nudity, as angels might have been before they learned the meaning of shame. Gamuza's scabbard fell to the side and the blade gleamed dangerously under the fluorescent lights.

'Was Nnoitra grateful for what you did?' Neliel asked, her voice strong in spite of the fact that she felt her throat sore and dry. Szayel sustained her gaze without blinking.

'Not particularly, no,' he responded dryly, latching his long, gloved fingers behind his back. The woman took a wide step towards him, placing her sword's tip on his cheek, just underneath the frame of his glasses.

'What about you? Was striking at me from behind worth it for you? Did you become an Espada?'

'Yes,' he answered; the sword's tip slipped gracefully to the side, leaving a shallow cut in its wake. Verona shrieked in the background, yet the Octava did little more than catch his breath.

'What rank did you make it to after your treachery, Szayel Aporro?' Neliel asked briskly.

'Eighth,' Szayel responded; another cut, parallel to the first, stretched on his cheekbone.

'Tell me more,' she hissed, sliding the blade downwards, and drawing a thin, bloody line from his cheekbone to his chin. 'Tell me more of your exploits before I kill you, Szayel Aporro… Did you do away Cirucci, as well?'

'Only recently,' he whispered, his voice trembling slightly.

'A pity,' Neliel spat. 'You could have risen higher…'

'Unlikely, at the moment.' Szayel answered, softly. He swallowed dry but did not back away from the sword. 'Perhaps later.'

'You still think your run isn't over, you cold blooded lizard,' she whispered, pressing the blade into his throat and finally making him hold his breath. 'Bringing me back was the worst mistake of our miserable life – it is, however fortunate, that it is the last one as well...'

'It wasn't technically a mistake,' Stark intervened, finally stepping out of his dark corner.

'Stark?' she asked in surprise; the blade trembled.

'I asked him to bring you back,' he said, softly. 'Put the sword away.'

She frowned deeply, no longer in fury, but in confusion, yet accepted the sheet with her left hand – Gamuza's blade lingered underneath Szayel's chin for a few more seconds.

'Come on, Neliel,' the Segunda insisted, kindly. She smirked, but obeyed. With no further word to Szayel Aporro, she turned away, wrapping the cloth around herself. Neliel looked at Stark questioningly – he smiled and shrugged, biting his lower lip, then innocently scratched his head.

'What should I say?' he inquired warmly. 'Welcome back?'

'The sheer cheek of you!' the woman frowned. 'How long have you known I was out there?'

'Not long,' Stark answered. 'And I had you back as soon as I understood how.'

'Gods, am I happy to see you,' she said, softly, as if she had meant for Szayel not to hear her. 'Thank you for bringing me back. So, how long could you actually live without me?' Neliel added, finally smiling wide.

'A few months, and things have changed. I will explain everything – and there is much to explain…' the Segunda had said, putting his arm around her shoulders. Neliel's smile turned warmer, and she briefly leaned her forehead on his shoulder.

'I'm gonna kill Nnoitra,' she breathed, as if his touch had sparked the memories of the toddler, and Stark chuckled.

'He is dead already.'

'Ichigo defeated him?' Neliel chuckled in her turn.

'If Ichigo is a very ugly bastard with an eye patch, then yes.' he reassuringly answered.

'He's not!' Neliel frowned. 'He's a cute kid with orange hair…'

'Then it wasn't him that killed Nnoitra.' Stark answered with a little smirk. 'But we need to speak, about him and everything else.'

'Not in front of _that_, I hope. He's second on my list.' Neliel shot, indicating Szayel with a sharp movement of her chin. Stark stopped smiling, and looked over his shoulder with an unreadable expression. He met Szayel's defeated glance, and, for a brief second, the look in his half open blue eyes left the pink haired Arrancar with the faint illusion that Stark would say something in his defense – the Segunda remained silent, and nodded, leading Neliel into the side room.

Left alone beneath the cool, comfortable lights of his laboratory – _perfect illumination, perfect angle, perfect color -_ Szayel looked on their trail for a few moments longer, then slowly strolled back to his chair. He began typing, and all things that could still fall in place fell in place. The table slid to the wall, and the projector retreated inside the ceiling. Verona came to his side, its hands knit together in a subservient manner, yet, oddly, even its almost featureless face expressed more regret than the Octava's finely chiseled features did.

'You know, Verona,' he said, amusedly glancing down at the Fracction, 'of the many _small_ indignities that I have been subjected to in the past hours, this _has_ to be the worse.'

The Fraction whimpered, not knowing how else to express its sympathy, and Szayel Aporro smiled.

'It would appear as if I have a moment to spare,' he said, in painfully theatrical cheer. 'Let's make you another Lumina.'

Up next - Not only Yammy gets lost in Las Noches. Maybe Aizen should invest in some energy saving lightbulbs? I wonder if British Gas delivers to Hueco Mundo...


	19. Lost

Good evening. On tonight's menu, the only mildly bland course is Ichigo. The rest of them are hmm, quite delicious.

And no, Szayel, you cannot have Kenpachi steak tartare just yet, the condiments are not ready. You are, however, welcome to some Ulquiorra carpaccio with rocket salad and balsamic vinegar reduction. What do you mean you want parmesan to that? Shheesh!

Thank all for reading and commenting - I blame this chapter on the early May Bank holiday. Days off for the win :)

Chapter 19 - Where Stark's best laid plans are undone by Yachiru's complete lack of sense of direction.

* * *

It took her a few seconds to feel Grimmjow had stopped; she had simply dashed past him and around two corners before she realized she probably should have stopped as well. The trouble with Lilinette' speed when she was angry enough, however, was the fact that it did not simply vanish when she wanted it to, and that she could not really change direction without a hard surface to redirect her momentum. She smirked, bouncing off the wall in front of her to turn around; she retraced her steps, but, as soon as Grimmjow came into sight once more, she realized that the end of the corridor he'd stopped in was annoyingly far away.

Fortunately, he grabbed her by the back of her vest as she hissed past, cursing – he could not outright stop her, so he merely curved her trajectory, making her circle him and spinning in place twice before bringing her to a halt. Lilinette landed on one bent knee next to him, and glanced up with a defiant smirk. The movement had almost torn the garment off her, and he laughed out loud at her outraged grimace, leaning his forehead on the wall and knocking his clenched fist on it in amusement. The girl pulled the vest back over her completely uncovered chest, her smirk a perfect depiction of injured dignity.

'What's the big idea?' Lilinette snapped, blushing furiously. 'I ain't Apache to fall for that cheap trick!'

'…can see that…Still flat, huh?' Grimmjow retorted, tears streaming down his cheeks.

'Don't look and be a jackass about it!' she exclaimed, cranking her nose and kicking him in the shin – the sharp pain didn't make him stop laughing, but it did make him try to; he bit his lip, and his rolling laughter receded to soft, stifled chuckles. 'Like you can help being a jackass…jackass!'

'You already said that,' he shrugged, struggling to catch his breath. 'You need a new insult for the ending, kiddo.'

'What's with ya?' Lilinette asked, frowning. 'Why did ya stop? Weren't we in like, a big hurry to get killing our own kind?'

'We still are,' Grimmjow answered, shoving his hands in his pockets. His expression had turned serious, however. 'Would be cool if he didn't know we were coming from six miles away, though, dontcha think? With your reiatsu in attack mode, Lilinette, you're like a fucking beacon.'

She scowled, her light burning even brighter.

'Not to mention that when you get like this, you can't stop for shit.' He chuckled. 'You need to chill a bit before we get into the tenth tower, kid.' Grimmjow said, inattentively scratching his cheek, underneath the sharp edges of his mask. 'Else we'll be fighting Gin as well as Yammy.'

'If I were more chilled, I'd be a bloody iceberg,' Lilinette shrilled, punching the wall so hard that the stone shattered under her hit. She recoiled, and bent her arm to strike again, but this time, she punched squarely in the center of his extended palm, golden light rippling violently around her closed fist.

'Yeh,' Grimmjow remarked blankly. 'Visible to the naked eye. Sit.' He said; when the word was not enough, he placed his palm on top of her head and pressed her down. Lilinette resisted the attempt for a few seconds, before he smirked and swept her legs from under her, making her fall flat on her behind.

'What the…' she furiously began, stopping in mid sentence as Grimmjow sat down besides her. Still breathing heavily, the girl leered at him for a few seconds, then slowly brought her knees up, leaning her elbows on top of them and leaning her forehead down to stare vacantly at the floor.

'I gather,' he began, at the end of a few seconds of silence, 'you are pissed.'

'Duh,' Lilinette responded, without looking up.

'You ain't pissed at me, though, right?' Grimmjow grinned innocently, and the piece of mask across his lower jaw grinned with him, thick, sharp fangs gleaming in the semi obscurity. 'C'mon,' he said, lightly slapping her across the shoulder, then pointing to his face. 'How can you be pissed at this? I look as innocent as a newborn babe.'

Lilinette's frown faltered for a second, but she struggled to recompose it.

'You look retarded grinning like that,' she said. 'Quit it. I'm pissed at the both of you. Was my right to be in that room, and hear what you were talking about. Least then,' she sighed, 'I would understand what the fuck we're doing – but no, he wanted me out, and you helped him get me out, and then you ordered me 'round like I was…'

'A Fracction?' he asked, his grin widening as her chin lifted abruptly. 'Just stating the obvious, kiddo…don't scowl like that, your face will get stuck in that position and you'll spend eternity a virgin, I swear.'

'Gonna spend eternity a virgin anyway,' she observed. 'So quit jerking my chain.'

'Right, you're already ugly as is…'

'An' you know what ticks me off the most?' Lilinette exploded. 'All the 'Think about it Lilinette', like I'm dumb or something, then all the 'Sit down, Lilinette' ,'Get out, Lilinette'…can't fucking decide! And after he kicked me out in the middle of the shit, like I was _unfit _to hear his grand master planning, he tells me to go kill Yammy like it was nothing. Like he said it once, and I'm gonna jump on without discussion it as if I was freaking Verona! What the fuck am I to him?'

'Everything,' Grimmjow answered, dryly, stopping her tirade. She bit her lower lip and again gazed to the floor. Maybe, the Sexta thought, that was truly the best description.

He remembered that when first he had met Stark after his own transformation, he had found the Vasto Lorde that should have been the strongest of them all disappointing – the Segunda's expression of strength was so different from Grimmjow's that he had barely recognized it as such. Stark never provoked and never responded to provocation. He did not fawn over Aizen, but he never disobeyed. The world passed over him and through him, leaving him unchanged.

That, however, the Sexta thought, had been before he first seen Stark fighting, and understood that his strength needed no validation, either in his own eyes, or in the eyes of anyone else. His refusal of participating in power games was not cowardice, but simply deeply rooted self assurance, the sort that only Aizen and perhaps Barragan posessed…yet, unlike Aizen or Barragan, Stark never judged and never looked down on anyone. As quiet in his friendships as he was in his enmities, the Segunda had been the only one whose behavior towards Grimmjow had not changed when he had lost his arm and position; he'd actually been around more, sleepy, non-committal and not intrusive, yet always around, just in case any of the other Numeros would have attempted to fully do away with Grimmjow in a fit of self promotion. He had resented it – even with one single arm, he was more than well above any of the Numeros.

'_Who said you weren't?'_

_Stark's characteristic, lazy shrug._

'_Your behavior does, you stupid bastard. You don't need to be doing this shit for me…'_

'_Who said I am doing it for you, kitty? Now that I am sure you have a brain of your own, I'm doing it for myself.'_

'_If you're thinking of taking me as Fracction, Stark, you can bloody forget it. I am not gonna…'_

'_Lilinette would nail my balls to the floor,' the Segunda had yawned, to show he had not even considered the possibility. 'Besides, I am having enough trouble with one Fracction who finds it amusing to wake me by shoving her fist down my throat, would not want one that finds it amusing to wake me by stepping on my head, as you most certainly would.'_

'_Then what the fuck do you want from me?'_

'_For you to stay just as you are. I find your manic distaste for authority encouraging, and I am just attempting to protect your right to dissent.'_

'_Where were you when Tousen took my arm, then?'_

'_Not the time,' Stark had laughed. 'Not the place. However, I don't want you to forget how strong you are when the right time and the right place do come along.'_

_Something in his voice had made Grimmjow laugh._

'_No success with Halibel, then, Stark? I'd guess so, else ya wouldn't be looking to me…'_

'_I'd be looking to you regardless.'_

_The former Sexta had chewed on the compliment, and on the indifferent tone on which it had been uttered._

'_I won' be more grateful to you than I ever was to Aizen, Stark.'_

'_I don't want you to be grateful at all. A little less cussing around Lilinette would be greatly appreciated though,' Stark had grinned. _

'_All you'd have to do would be to keep your tiny sex toy away from me…'_

_Stark had shrugged his words off, as he shrugged off all other inconsequential untruths._

'_The loss would be greater than the gain, kitty. She likes you, and you can teach her to be honest about her rage. I can't. I need you for that – and for many other things.'_

He had never truly said as much, but he had felt honored, even more so because Stark had clearly not intended for him to feel thus. Grimmjow had overlooked the other Espada's assumed weakness just as easily and naturally as Stark seemed to overlook his own. The Fracction's existence seemed to give Stark reason and purpose, just as endless competition and will to fight gave Grimmjow reason and purpose…and one needed purpose, if one wanted to keep even a trace of sanity. Purpose was everything.

'Then why doesn't he trust me?' Lilinette asked, at long length.

'Because you're acting like a shit-head,' the Sexta replied, briskly. 'What was that nonsense about Halibel, huh?' he scolded. 'And why did you say it in front of Szayel Aporro? Don't you realize the fucker can't be trusted with anything?'

'Unlike you, eh?' she asked wryly, and Grimmjow cackled knowingly.

'Ey, well, I can be trusted with a trifle or two,' he answered. 'Not too much and none too far, though,' he warned earnestly. 'But exposing Stark to Szayel is not smart, Lilinette. Whether we win or lose at this, it ain't smart…'

'Yeah, yeah, lie more,' the girl smirked.

'I ain't lying…'

'You are – you know it, I know it, and there's no point in denying it. How can I expose Stark to Szayel Aporro, when he said himself he's gonna kill Halibel? Why would it matter, in any case? He didn't give a shit about her…'

'That's where you're wrong,' Grimmjow shrugged. 'It was Halibel who didn't give a shit about him; there's no room in her generous bosom for anyone else but Aizen.' He did not stop to accommodate the girl's surprised gaze. 'And Stark's really good at cutting his losses, kiddo. Or at least most of them.' he added, looking at her in a meaningful way that Lilinette did not miss. 'He's also a vengeful fuck, but in context that's unimportant,' Grimmjow laughed. 'The point is, you can't show Szayel Aporro Stark's openings, Lilinette, he's already seen the greatest and it's not good for either him or you.'

'What didn't he want me to hear, Grimm?' she asked, softly. 'What _more_ didn't he want me to hear?'

Grimmjow looked at her through narrowed eyes, but did not answer.

'You can't trust Szayel Aporro, Lilinette,' he off-handedly said. 'You can't trust him for shit.' He paused, letting her absorb the thought.

'It is gonna be a lot easier for me, since I really don't care squat about Apache…here one day, gone the next…' he continued. 'Stark cared for Halibel, but he won't let that get in his way. Don't let it get in your way, kiddo.'

'Is that it?' she protested, furiously. 'Don't let it get in your way?'

'Should there be more?' Grimmjow shrugged.

'Yammy hasn't done anything to us,' Lilinette exploded.

'Your point being that…?' he snapped back, arching an eyebrow.

'My point being, shouldn't we, like, have reason?'

He shrugged.

'I kill folk for looking at me funny.' Grimmjow earnestly answered. 'Not the best person to ask.'

Lilinette pursed her lips and he fidgeted uneasily.

'Look, what do you want me to say to ya? I am not a philosopher,' the man sighed. 'We all kill for different reasons. I kill because I can't stop just before it; Stark kills for the logical necessity of it, _tactically,_ so to speak. Szayel Aporro kills because he has a manic compulsion…because he gets off on showing off how strong he is. If you want to evolve, Lilinette, you'll need to find your own reasons. Your own style. I don't see you getting off on killing, and you don't seem to be getting the logical necessity bit, which even I am considering in the present circumstances. But you're an angry little critter…'

'…so Stark sent me with you hoping that I'll forget when to stop.'

'Smart chick.' He laughed. 'Too bad you've got no breasts. Apache has breasts, but no brains – not sure which I go for, to be honest…'

'Don't be a jackass,' she whispered.

'You wanna evolve, don't ya?' Grimmjow asked, patiently waiting for her to nod before he continued. 'To evolve, you need to stick to _what_ you are, kiddo. Whatever Aizen did to ya with his crystal ball, you're not a fucking Shinigami, you don't evolve through shit introspection and humming Zen tunes, you are a fucking Hollow – and we evolve by killing and eating other Hollows, we thrive on each other's reiatsu. We are cannibals by definition. Szayel Aporro is just shameless about it.'

'Don't you remember being an Adjucha, Lilinette?' Grimmjow asked, turning to face her. 'You were one, once. You killed and consumed other Hollows, not even to advance, but to keep yourself an Adjucha…Don't ya remember that, kid?'

'Vaguely,' she said, softly. 'I remember the hunger, mostly. An' I remember Stark being around. I don't remember killing because I wanted to stay an Adjucha…What?' she asked, scowling. 'Why are you laughing?'

'Nothing,' Grimmjow answered, closing his eyes for a moment. 'I am just wondering if Stark deluded you, of if you're deluding yourself. You _are _just as much of a powerful bundle of reiasu and fury as any of us, kid. Else, your consciousness would not have survived the evolution to Gillian. You would never have been an Adjucha in the first place. Whether you killed yourself or Stark killed for you after that point, Lilinette…'

'What I am trying to tell ya,' he reiterated, the light in his blue eyes as sharp as the reflex on his skeletal Hollow jaw, 'is that you haven't found your style because unlike the rest of us, you ain't never been alone – Stark was always around you, protecting you from the worse of it all. Cuz Hell is not disappearing, Lilinette. Even Nnoitra understood it, and spent his centuries looking for the one person who would off him. No, the greatest demons that screw you in life are still the greatest demons that screw you forever after - Hell is loneliness and doubt. You never roamed around under the moon without purpose, you did not have ambition, and fury, and regret chewing at ya like I did. He kept you from that, and it should prevent you from being pissed at him for, like, eternity.'

'You didn't have the closest things in the world to ya offering themselves as steps to your evolution, Lilinette. Because they could tell just how much of a monster you were. And because they _envied_ you for it.'

'You didn't eat them,' she whispered. 'You let all of them live, Shawlong and Di Roi and even Illfordt.'

'A lot of good that did'em, blondie,' Grimmjow answered, leaning his head back on the wall. 'My balls being bigger than my brain killed them all afterwards anyway. Ya know,' he grinned, 'if I regret anything about that, it's that I got Illfordt killed and made Szayel Aporro grin the happy chipmunk grin. How I hate that…'

He paused, and breathed deeply.

'Accept what you are, Lilinette. You ain't gonna grow if you don't.'

'I don't have any reason to kill Yammy,' she stubbornly repeated, after a long, painful silence.

'You don't wanna grow?'

'I don't think killing _him_ is gonna make me grow, Grimm. I have no reason to kill him. I don't think I can find one – he'd be out of the way if he yielded, as well, and even Stark said that if we can make him yield…'

'That's not essential, kiddo. The essential would be making me stop once I've started,' Grimmjow laughed. 'Think you can do _that_? You look like you think you could,' he sighed, to the girl's wide grin. 'Very well.'

The Sexta jumped to his feet.

'Make you a deal,' he said. 'If during our fight with Yammy you still won't find any reason to kill him, you're more than welcome to try to stop me from offing him.'

Lilinette looked up, her pink eye slanted and narrow.

'Make you another deal, Grimm.' She said, softly. 'If I can stop you before you kill Yammy, you'll tell me what Stark doesn't want me to know.'

'Don't be daft, kid,' Grimmjow laughed, without missing a beat. 'Why would I do that?'

''Cuz if you don't, jackass, Szayel Aporro will.'

The expression on the Sexta's human features remained unchanged, yet the fangs of his mask screeched painfully as they clenched together.

'I really do wanna grow,' she said blankly. 'You have no idea how much.'

* * *

'I am sure it went that-a-way,' Yachiru declared, pointing down the fourth corridor on the right.

'I am sure we've been this way twice before, and every time you said he went in another direction!' Ichigo finally exploded.

They had been inside Las Noches for the past two hours, walking down the city's tall, majestic, and especially _endless_ corridors. It was a part of the city they had not been in before, or at least appeared so, since the walls were still intact – for the moment. Because, Ichigo thought, snarling as he brushed past Kenpachi, if they circled around one more time, he would goddamn bust clearly through every single bit of stone in his path until he ran across Renji.

'We have indeed been this way,' Kuchiki said, calmly. 'Thrice before.'

'Nonsense,' the little girl declared. 'We haven't been this way, and that's where he went,' she added, pointing to the third corridor on the left. Without waiting for his two companions, Kenpachi started in the direction indicated by his lieutenant. Ichigo cursed under his breath, drawing a reproachful glance from Byakuya.

The captain of the 6th division emitted a deep, pained and graceful sigh, and followed Kenpachi without protest. Torn between her own logic and sense of direction, and the fact that Yachiru seemed so sure of herself, Isane hesitated a moment, then surrendered and shrugged, stepping into the corridor in her turn.

'What?' Ichigo said, letting his arms fall limply to the sides of his body in exasperation. 'You're simply gonna follow? Wait a minute!' he added, finding no recourse but to start on their trail in his turn. 'You're gonna follow him _again?'_

'Yes,' Byakuya answered, widening his steps, as if attempting to prevent the human boy from walking beside him.

'Why?' Ichigo asked, throwing his arms in the air. 'If you know for sure that we've been this way three times before, why the fuck…'

'Language, please,' the captain of the 6th interrupted. 'I often wonder, Kurosaki Ichigo, if your unspeakable manners stem from natural stupidity or a hopelessly derelict modern educational system.'

'Huh?' the boy asked, his eyes widening.

'He called you dumb, boy,' Kenpachi grinned, over his shoulder. 'Sucker!'

'Me, dumb?' Ichigo exclaimed. 'Why am I dumb? When you're all following Yachiru, 'tho she clearly has no bloody idea of where Grimmjow went off to!'

'We are following vice-captain Kusajishi's directions,' Byakuya began explaining, 'because none of us know what the correct direction is. I would think it is clear, is it not, vice-captain Kotetsu?'

Unsure of how to react, and finding that Ichigo was unjustly insulted for feelings that closely matched her own, Isane shrugged.

'I don't know what you're babbling about,' Yachiru protested. 'I know exactly where I'm going – I'm following his reiatsu…'

'Oh dear vice-captain,' Kuchiki sighed, 'of course you are not. You did, until we entered these corridors, but you have lost his trace half an hour ago, as have we all.'

The little girl smirked horribly, poking her tongue out at Byakuya; Kenpachi cringed, stopped, and cast an annoyed glare at the captain of the 6th.

'Must you be _quite_ so blunt?' he muttered. 'There ain't no need to hurt Yachiru's feelings on the matter.'

'You tell him, Ken-chan,' she chimed.

'You can't do no better,' Kenpachi added.

'Ya! You can't do no better!' Yachiru agreed.

'Hence,' Byakuya said, calmly, 'I follow.'

Satisfied with the response, Kenpachi pressed on, and Ichigo shook his head in dismay.

'All of this is constructed out of extremely thick sekki stone,' Byakuya added, very softly; initially, Ichigo did not even understand the captain was addressing him. After all, Kuchiki had not even turned his head. 'No one could feel even the faintest trace of reiatsu through it; we lost Grimmjow Jaggerjaques's trail at the entrance before this intersection. The only way to proceed, therefore, is by process of elimination.'

'But there were two other entrances!' Ichigo blurted out, making Byakuya wince.

'Process of elimination,' he repeated, decisively. 'There are eight corridors here, we have gone down four of them, and there are four left. In the unlikely event in which we will encounter nothing of use, we shall return to the starting point…'

'And go through them all? The boy exploded.

'Shh!' Isane and Kenpachi hissed, at the same time.

'Are you all nuts?' Ichigo continued, on the same tone. 'Do you have any idea how long that would take? This place is a goddamn maze! Why can't we bloody split up and look…'

'Because not all of us are irremediably mentally impaired.' Byakuya stated dryly. 'Or suicidal,' he added, with a disgusted little smirk. He took a step forward, only to hit his forehead on the center of Kenpachi's back – the man had stopped, and was attentively gazing forward.

'Shh,' he repeated, his eyes gleaming dangerously. 'Something's coming.'

Byakuya stepped beside him, and listened intently in his turn; a few seconds passed before he looked up and nodded, then sighed, noticing the monstrous grin of anticipation that had grown on Kenpachi's features. Indeed, from the darkness ahead, there came the barely perceptible sound of regular, measured footsteps, no louder than the rustle of grains of sand.

'Is that…' Ichigo whispered, drawing Zangetsu.

'I cannot tell,' Isane responded, in an equally soft tone. 'I cannot feel a thing. Captain Kuchiki…'

'Nor can I,' Byakuya mouthed; his hand darted to Kenpachi's cloak, just in time to keep him in place. 'No,' he shook his head, indifferent to the other captain's furious scowl. 'No!' he repeated, widening his eyes for emphasis. 'We cannot feel who it is, it could as well be Aizen.'

'Yeah, and?' Kenpachi mouthed in his turn, furiously knitting his eyebrows.

'And we are grievously ill equipped for that encounter at the moment,' Byakuya whispered.

Isane nodded in understanding, and turned around.

'If we cannot feel it,' she said, softly, 'it cannot feel us either. Let's retreat to one of the other corridors, until we see what exactly it is.'

'…the hell…'Ichigo mumbled – Kuchiki's eyes, however, showed there was no room for argument. His hand securely clasped onto Kenpachi's clothes, the captain of the 6th began drawing the other back – or at least attempted to, for Kenpachi remained stubbornly motionless and continued grinning from ear to ear.

'Captain Kenpachi,' Isane pleaded. 'If we fight, the entire city will be alerted to our presence…'

Both the captain and Yachiru threw a dark leer over their shoulders.

'Ya, and?' they simultaneously whispered.

'And that would make vice-captain Abarai's position quite uncertain,' she continued. 'We are here to find him, not to provoke a fight. Aren't we?' she concluded, pursing her lips. Yachiru sighed, expressing all the grief and disappointment that was imprinted on Kenpachi's features.

'Yeah, yeah…Let's see who it is before we jump it,' Kenpachi conceded, his whisper carrying the tune of a broken heart. He met Ichigo's furious glance, and nervously gestured towards Byakuya, as if attempting to shift the blame, before starting down the corridor at a rapid pace. Kuchiki turned to follow, acknowledging Isane's success with a quick nod.

They had not come far, so the intersection came within sight in a few seconds; carefully choosing a corridor that they had previously explored, Byakuya retreated into the darkness, keeping close to the wall. By his side, sword in hand, Ichigo leant forward impatiently. A few more seconds passed, painfully stretching before the footsteps became clear, coming into full earshot, regular, unhurried, disciplined clinking of metal against the stone, and the captain of the 6th division found that he needed to hold on to the orange haired boy's collar to keep him from advancing more than he should have.

The steps paused at the mouth of the corridor, as if the person had been undecided on the direction, then, finally, the Arrancar came into full view, the white silken coat tails of a new uniform jacket floating graciously behind him.

'Ulquiorra!' Ichigo breathed, darting forward; he chocked and fell back, as Byakuya's forearm caught his throat in an iron grip – the rustle of cloth and the clink of Zangetsu's blade against the wall, as Kuchiki furiously pulled Ichigo backwards made Ulquiorra's frame stiffen. The Cuarta did not turn straight away; hands in his pockets, he remained still, as if attempting to make no noise in his turn – the corridors carried sounds in an odd manner, Byakuya thought. Perhaps the Espada was unsure of where the sound had come from.

He scowled at Ichigo, slowly letting go of the human's neck, and drew his fingers closer to Senbonzakura's hilt. Ulquiorra turned by half, the unmasked side of his face tense with attention.

'Let's go!' Ichigo cried – his words, much like any other noise, were swallowed by the deafening sound of an explosion. Pieces of melted sekki stone and immense clouds of dust erupted from one of the other corridors, making Ulquiorra lift an arm to shield his eyes. The Arrancar frowned in confusion, his green eyes narrowed to the size of knife-blades, then pointlessly and reflexively waved his arm before his face, attempting to clear the dust that was invading his nostrils. It seemed as if an entire portion of the tunnel that Ulquiorra had been heading for had suddenly collapsed, large pieces of the ceiling blocking the passage a few hundred yards in the distance.

Equally confused, Ichigo stumbled backwards, pulling the sleeve of his coat over his mouth to keep himself from coughing; he did not have time to recover. A second explosion caused the ground to tremble beneath his feet – an all too familiar ray of teal light shone briefly in the distance, reflecting off the polished stone. The Gran Ray Cero's light burst though the tiny openings that the collapsed rock had left, and making Ulquiorra's shadow become oddly sharp and crooked as it slid against the back wall.

'Grimmjow!' the Cuarta and Ichigo whispered, not hearing each other; Ulquiorra's face had briefly lost its emotionless expression, and twisted into a mask of fury and disgust, yet the transformation had been so short that Ichigo had barely registered it. In the next breath, the Cuarta had vanished, and more rock and dust had been hurled into the crossing; Ulquiorra clearly made his way through, blowing the obstacle asunder with his own Cero and leaving nothing but a perfectly round, body-size opening in his wake.

Not waiting to see if the others would follow, Ichigo had darted on Ulquiorra's trail; with a sigh, Kuchiki had followed in his turn.

'Told ya he went that-a-way,' Yachiru had giggled; she'd clenched her arms tightly around Kenpachi's neck, and lowered her forehead to his shoulder just in time to shield her head from the stone that her captain's passage had crushed into sand.

* * *

'I am sorry to interrupt your doubtlessly emotional reunion.'

Displeased by the sound of Szayel Aporro's voice, which clearly showed he felt nothing of the sort, as well as by the fact that the Octava had entered the room without giving the most minor trace of warning, Stark looked away from Neliel's tense and unconvinced features.

'What is it, Szayel Aporro?' he asked, briskly.

'I think I have found Ulquiorra,' Szayel answered dryly; with a slow, sensuous gesture that announced no good, the Octava had run his fingers though his hair, letting the pink, silky strands fall to the exact same position as before.

'Glorious,' Stark sighed, exchanging a quick glance with Neliel. 'But we are not done talking…'

'On the contrary, I believe you are.' Szayel interrupted, smiling sweetly. 'He is in Yammy's tower, where, incidentally, Grimmjow and…'

His hair had swayed gently as Stark had hissed past; Neliel had sighed.

'Oh, for the love of God,' the young woman had grunted. 'Why can the world ever stay still for long enough for _me_ to even argue with him?'

She had started her Sonido, and vanished in her turn.

* * *

Up next - the emotional tale of Ikkaku and Yumichika finding love though adversity...OK, not really.


	20. House of Pain

So, where were we? Ah, Ikkaku and Yumichika, and their whirlwind romance. Sadly, the cast have had a small spat backstage, caused by the fact that Szayel Aporro submitted that he finds Yumichika's eyebrow slightly over the top. The motion was sustained by myself, myself, and, unexplainably, Ulquiorra. As a consequence, Yumichika left, and threatened contract termination with unspeakable commercial consequences for emotional trauma. Yeeees, I have been reading contracts. Does it show?

We shall now return to our regularly scheduled programme. Thank all for reading and commenting :)

Warnings - Language, violence and geek talk. Fortunately, separate from each other.

Chapter 20 - Where Yammy _jumps around._

* * *

Renji had become strangely quiet and still; he had not sat down, but he had sheathed his sword and frowned in concentration

Renji had become strangely quiet and still; he had not sat down, but he had sheathed his sword and frowned in concentration. At his side, Ishida had a remarkably similar expression – both had seen, or rather, felt Stark and Neliel leaving in a rush, and had probably expected Szayel Aporro to follow.

Instead, Szayel had calmly glanced on their trail and sat back at his panels, with the relaxed, languorous gestures of one who had all the time in the world. A multitude of dots danced on the screen before him, glowing bright, then disappearing at regular intervals, as a square pattern swept outwards from the center of the image.

'Hm,' he said, almost to himself, but in a loud enough voice to make Lumina and Verona stop frolicking and stand to attention. 'I fear our sensors are a bit far from the tenth tower and may require some recalibration. Volunteers would be greatly appreciated.' he smiled, turning his chair half way around.

'Me!' Lumina exclaimed, attempting to come forward; Verona stepped on its foot and advanced in its turn.

'No, me!' Verona shrilled.

'You always get to go places!' Lumina snapped, frowning at its companion.

'That's because he likes _me _better!' Verona explained haughtily.

'Does not!'

'Does too!'

The two scowled menacingly at each other for a second.

'Pick me!' Lumina reiterated, bouncing away from Verona.

'No, me!'

'I have a solution to your dilemmas – simple, yet masterful.' Szayel sighed, pressing his hand to his forehead. He could not feel it through the glove, but he was quite assured he was running a fever. 'Why don't both of you go and stop bouncing off my nervous synapses?'

'Ya, we could,' Lumina answered.

'Of course we could,' Verona agreed.

They grinned and nodded at each other; Lumina skipped towards the side cabinet, and began extracting a score of neatly packaged cables and tripods. In her turn, Verona approached Szayel and looked upwards at the screen.

'What to do where?' it asked.

'I wish I had made you more eloquent,' Szayel answered, arching an eyebrow.

'Not eloquent but comprehensive!' the Fracction replied, seriously. 'Where shall we move the sensors to, Szayel Aporro-sama?' it reformulated, making Szayel grin in his turn.

'Well, look – quadrants 35j through to m and 34k to q are out of range,' he explained, indicating blank portions on the screen. 'I need to have a good sweep of the tenth tower, and we are only reading the ninth at present.'

'So, one at 35l, and one at 34p should cover the section,' Lumina said from behind, skipping gleefully as Szayel nodded in accord.

'Also,' he added, 'whatever equipment is in place at 36i needs to be replaced. It is giving me false readings.'

'Impossible, Szayel Aporro-sama' Verona answered, in a tone that clearly allowed no contradiction – Szayel frowned, but did not rush to punish the Fracction's daring. He had programmed them to have enough wit to insist when they knew they were right. 'It was replaced yesterday, and I have verified it after you…eh, ya, fell out of touch. It works good.' The Fracction explained, clearly not knowing how precise to be with its description of event timelines.

It reached over, rounded body oddly stretching upwards to reach the keys, and pulled out a sensor status monitor – all lines were steadily green, indicating that all equipment was functioning perfectly. Szayel frowned and cranked his nose.

'Then how do we explain this?' he asked, clicking the status monitor away and pointing to the screen. The square pattern swept over the image, revealing four reiatsu concentrations, all of considerable dimensions, yet mere pinpoints shining, then gradually disappearing within the trembling contour of a fifth presence that left a trace as large as a quarter of the screen.

'Two captain class Shinigami and two sub-captain class Shinigami,' Verona shrugged. 'Doing Sonido, I think.'

'…Shumpo…' Lumina corrected, hopping to Szayel's other side.

'Like they are different!' Verona snapped.

'Like they are _not!_' the other Fracction grinned. 'Sonido doesn't leave a reiatsu trail, but Shumpo does. So, yes – two captain class Shinigami and two vice-captain class Shinigami doing Shumpo.'

'You are both disturbingly wrong,' Szayel interrupted, sighing in regret and making a mental note of giving the two vastly enhanced reiatsu sensing abilities when he next recreated them. 'That's a third captain class presence. It is far too strong and too definite to be a Shumpo trail – how could a Shumpo trail be stronger than the thing that generated it? I am woefully displeased at your readings interpretations.'

'Not even Aizen-sama looks like this on our readings,' Lumina began, in a doubtful voice.

'Nonetheless,' Szayel Aporro said, 'I have felt and heard this one before, and I am sure it is …_large_.' He hated the word and had hesitated before uttering it – it implied no precision, yet, at the moment, it was the most accurate way of describing what he saw and felt. 'It is definitely larger than Stark, and a lot more noisy – I would not have even noticed the others without the sensors. Yet, this is the first measurable reading of the presence that I see, and I do not think it can possibly be _that_ large.'

_Can it?_

All three Hollows leaned closer to the screen, with a gesture so similar it might have been comical. Without waiting for Szayel's approval, Verona clicked the status monitor open, and reset it; after a few seconds of flickering, one after the other, the lines blinked back to green.

'Hm,' Szayel said, running his fingers on his chin. 'Maybe I _should_ have warned Stark, after all.'

He leaned back, grinning wide. A presence like the one before him was impossible to conceal – Stark would notice it on his own, soon enough. However, Szayel was assured that the humongous reiatsu of the Shinigami perfectly masked all of its companions, who, in turn, were not negligible. One other of the presences, the Octava thought, was enough to counter Stark on its own, but the Segunda would not truly register him until it was too late, and he would have already walked straight in between five Shinigami. And, of course, Ulquiorra.

_Good. Some humility would be in order._

Szayel stretched gracefully and arranged his hair.

The only problem was, of course, the fact that if Stark was killed, the Octava would have to answer some rather awkward questions from Aizen; if Stark was merely defeated, he'd have to answer even more awkward questions from the Segunda…And, after he had had a day that he could accurately describe as the worse of his un-life so far, Szayel was not in the mood to slither and curry favor from either of the two.

Aizen had indeed provided the Octava with a means of evolution – granted, a means of evolution other than the one that the Hongyaku had set on for the rest; Szayel was too young as a Hollow for his reiatsu to rival the top ranks of the Espada, yet, whatever he could not achieve through pure reiatsu he could achieve by other means. Since Aizen's crossing and the founding of Las Noches, Szayel had found a space where he could grow his machines as they had been parts of himself, effectively enhancing himself more than he could have in centuries of proper evolution.

But, then Szayel thought, his lower jaw clenching menacingly, none of it mattered if one was _a helpless puppet of an uncaring God_. He cringed at both the phrase and at the memory it had set on – Aizen had clearly given him as much protection as he ever would; he'd shown woefully insufficient attention, and thoroughly insulting disregard for his perfect creation.

He clicked the readings screen to a secondary monitor, and began typing rapidly, bringing up the analytics models he had used on Kurosutchi; he considered the code for a few moments, tapping his long fingernails on the side of the keyboard, then cracked his fingers and began typing again, redefining the data entry fields to feed on the sensors outside the laboratory. After a few seconds, he'd noticed that the Fracctiones were still by his sides, and apparently as consumed with the code as he was.

'You missed a semicolon at line eighty-five, Szayel Aporro-sama,' Verona pointed, blankly. 'Won't compile…'

'Didn't I just tell you to go somewhere and do something?' Szayel snapped in obvious annoyance – both Fracctiones shrieked and darted away.

Though the two were gone, Szayel fidgeted, not finding the proper level of concentration; something was still missing. He stood, and briefly went into his bedroom, returning with his short, too often sharpened pencil; he then sat back down before the panel, leaning in and chewing on the wooden tip.

_Perfect._

Szayel Aporro grinned wide, resuming his work. His hand slipped to the side of the panel to reinitiate the sound circuits.

'I'll need to take a look at your interesting little weapons in a few minutes, Quincy.' He distractedly said. 'In particular, to those you used on me when you horribly messed up my hair. Not to mention my outfit.'

Ishida looked up and cringed, his hand protectively grasping the Seele Schneider as Szayel looked at him over his shoulder.

'I haven't forgotten that,' the Octava muttered ominously. 'I never forget a bad hair day.'

* * *

Lilinette floated rapidly along the circular wall, flying barely inches above the stone; behind her, hopelessly lagged, Yammy's Barra struck hit after pointless hit, scoring round holes in the cylindrical surface. He barely registered her change of direction, only managing to avoid her foot by shifting to the side at the last second – the movement did not ease his troubles, and the giant had to take to the air as Grimmjow's Cero exploded beneath his feet.

Yammy did not have time to recover his balance before the Sexta's knee struck him clearly in the chest, sending blue lines of cutting energy though the darkness of the Hollow hole. Though the hit had found its mark, the Decima had latched his iron fingers onto the other Espada's leg; taking advantage of the fact that Grimmjow was much lighter than himself, Yammy jerked the Sexta to the side, effortlessly spinning him around a few times before letting go. He had aimed to hurl Grimmjow at Lilinette, and trap her between the Sexta's body and the wall, thus hitting them both in a single move. The Fracction had been faster, getting out of the way just in time to let Grimmjow slam helplessly into the wall, and cause an entire section of the cylinder to collapse in a tall column of dust.

'Eh, fucker!' Grimmjow exclaimed, coughing and dusting himself off. 'You ain't giving up!'

Yammy grinned wide, his massive, square jaws looking as solid as rock.

'What made you think I would? Traitor!' he barked, extending his arm; the light of the Cero bent awkwardly as Lilinette stepped on his wrist, preventing the hit from finding true aim. Enraged, Yammy caught her by the ankle and swung her upwards – aided by the speed of his movement, Lilinette's other foot swiped furiously under his chin, then kicked against his forehead. The Fracction pushed herself away, twisting her ankle out of his briefly looser grasp.

She stopped by Grimmjow's side, breathing heavily, but smiling wide. The rush flowed through her veins like fire spreading through paraffin, hot maddening fingers reaching over her brain through the back of her mask.

_So easy to forget when to stop…_

Grimmjow looked down at her and grinned, as if he could read her mind. She did not have time to smirk in defiance – the two of them darted away from each other to avoid Yammy's Gran Rey Cero, which burst clearly through the wall behind them, letting in a few faint rays of moonlight.

'Release,' Grimmjow prompted, his ankle stopping abruptly against Yammy's forearm.

The Decima contented himself on laughing and trying to push the teal-haired Espada away. Still, although Grimmjow was lingering in mid air, it had been Yammy to drift aside and helplessly fly against the stone.

'Release, ya stupid bastard,' Grimmjow had cackled. 'Make it interesting. I have a bet to defend here!'

Yammy roared out his frustration, his fist slamming against Lilinette's crossed arms; she had winced, but only slipped half a foot back in the air. Grimmjow came up behind Yammy, energy already shining in the center of his palm – the Decima lifted his forearm to defend against the Cero, brushing Grimmjow's arm aside. He only registered Lilinette's Cero when it was far too late; his fist was still pressed on one of the young girl's arms, but she had stretched the other forward. The energy that was crackling between her small gloved fingers was not red however – the trembling sphere was white, gold tints started flowing across its surface. Not a regular Cero, both Yammy and Grimmjow understood – not a Gillian Cero. Eyes widened in surprise, Grimmjow darted aside; scalding golden light burst from the tips of her fingers as she flew backwards, engulfing the Decima – a round, perfect opening was cut in the wall, the energy shaped by the Hollow hole in Yammy's chest.

'Oi, kiddo, something you forgot to tell me?' Grimmjow laughed, too amused by what he had just seen to lend Yammy any attention. 'Gran Rey Cero?'

'I ain't an Espada,' Lilinette chimed, from across the room. 'So we ain't calling it _that_ for the time being_.'_

'Pretty weak though,' he noted, as burned, but not severely injured Yammy coughed and straightened, discarding the tattered remains of his top. 'Let me show you how it's done in the big leagues!'

Yammy barely had time to turn and his reaction was caused more by the fact that Lilinette herself had hastily drawn to the side than by the fact that he had actually heard or understood Grimmjow. Though the Fracction's shot had only caused his extremely thick skin to blister at points, the aftertaste of it – a lingering, annoying heat, fluid and slippery like hot oil spread all over his body – made him slow and dizzied him to the point of nausea. He landed and pushed himself to the side; in the next blink of an eye, the place where he had stood had been blown up, a twenty foot crater marking the aim of Grimmjow's Gran Rey Cero - a piece of melted rock landed on the Decima's cheek, burning some sort of reality into his senses, and made him curse loudly.

'Real men don't dodge,' Lilinette had whispered; Yammy had blocked her punch with the back of his wrist, but had been too slow to block her kick, which had sent him sliding several feet across the floor.

'That's true,' Grimmjow had laughed from behind. 'Real men deflect!'

Quick as lightning and harder than iron, the Sexta's shin had hit Yammy across the shoulders, hurling him in the air. He'd straightened in flight, solidifying his reiatsu to increase the air's resistance and make himself stop – his Barra had been dangerously close this time, and Lilinette's desperate evasion had only been enough to assure that he had hit her shoulder, and not her face, as he had intended. Though she had bent backwards, she had not managed to completely slip under the Decima's attack. The energy seeped into her flesh and the mere blow had pushed her away as if she had been a snowflake in the wind. For a moment, as she slid to the side, her shoulder dark red and smoldering, Yammy had thought he had done away with at least one of his attackers.

Grimmjow had grinned – he had felt her reiatsu growing for what felt like an eternity before she'd turned and tensed her feet against the wall, to change direction. In his turn, Yammy had not registered her movements until he'd seen her sandal hissing towards his jaw; he had shifted to the side, dodging her, only to fly straight into Grimmjow's fist. The Sexta had knocked him down, then looked at Lilinette, who had stopped next to the other side of the room.

'Ya got a Hierro?' he scolded, frowning and trying to assess if she was seriously hurt.

'Ya,' Lilinette spat, pressing her palm against the burn. The muscles under the dry, crisp skin felt hopelessly inflexible – she rotated her shoulder, wincing against the pain, and feeling the skin crack.

'Use it next time,' he had shrugged. 'Like, now would be a good moment…'

He didn't have time to finish the phrase, nor did she have time to heed his warning – Yammy's giant fist, almost as large across as the girl's waist, had hit her squarely in the stomach, making her double over and pressing her almost half a foot into the stone wall behind; the second punch had hit her in the chest, forcing her to straighten, and, had it not been for Grimmjow's swift kick, that had forced Yammy to back away, the third would have crushed her skull.

The Sexta did not even look behind him at the panting Fracction.

'I ain't Stark,' he said, dryly, not taking his eyes off Yammy. 'If ya don't pay attention, ya get squished.'

'Fuck you!' Lilinette had hissed in his ear, as she darted by. Her reiatsu was almost too hot to bear, he'd physically felt it on the back of his neck, and her rage had made him laugh.

_That's it, kid. Hold on to it till you need no more reasons._

He'd drawn Pantera, spinning her hilt between his fingers.

'Yammy,' Grimmjow said, distractedly watching the Decima attempt to get another hit in in between Lilinette's furrious flurry of kicks and punches. The giant had brushed her aside, but she'd been back in the very next second, not strong enough to make him move, but certainly painful enough to notice and too fast to catch. 'As much as I like seeing you fight against an opponent your own size, I have a bit of advice for ya.'

Clumsily blocking Lilinette's shin with his raised arm, Yammy had looked up.

'Either release now,' Grimmjow had said, 'or start prayin' , dude.'

'Grimmjow, you bastard!' Yammy breathed, the anger focusing his attention for long enough to repel Lilinette twenty feet towards the high ceiling. The girl had bounced off it and turned around, both of her feet digging, almost cutting into his shoulder and pushing him to his knees. She had dashed behind him and stopped, panting, but suddenly listening intently. She had not expected Grimmjow to draw.

'Aizen-sama will have your head…'

'I ain't got much use for it anyway,' the Sexta had laughed. 'And it sure as shit won't matter to you.'

'Grimm,' Lilinette suddenly winced from behind, finally understanding what had prompted the Sexta into hastening the play. 'This ain't good.'

'I know,' he nodded, with a frown. 'You don't happen to be hiding a Caja Negacion in your generous cleavage, do ya, blondie?' Grimmjow manically cackled, springing forth. Pantera's blade threw hot sparks against the scabbard of Yammy's sword, metal clashing against metal as the Decima drew in his turn and cast the scabbard aside.

Lilinette's Cero exploded behind him yet wisely, Yammy ignored the pain and did not take his eyes off the Sexta – he twisted the sword to the side, deflecting Pantera upwards and aiming his left fist at Grimmjow's exposed stomach.

'Ya think?' Grimmjow hissed, pressing his palm against Yammy's cheek. 'I think not.'

The Cero felt as if it had been growing inside the Decima's skull, acid spreading through his jaw; Yammy felt the inside of his mouth becoming dry and beginning to burn. Forgetting all about striking back, the Decima had tried to Sonido away – he barely managed to move a few yards before understanding he could not outrun the blow. Yammy then turned, raising his sword but knowing that it would not be able to shield him from a Gran Rey Cero. The light grew, energy hissing and crackling in the air around him, reflecting maddeningly on the Sexta's blade before finally exploding.

The Decima cringed and closed his eyes, feeling the heat growing ever closer, then suddenly unexplainably shifting direction and moving away.

Grimmjow's Cero exploded to the side, and the Sexta narrowed his eyes just as Yammy re-opened his, in confusion.

'Welcome back, Ulquiorra,' Grimmjow said, indifferently.

Ulquiorra did not deign to respond.

* * *

Up next - Eh, trouble and mayhem.


	21. Pride

What would you like me to say up here? You want to read the chapter, not the blurb. However, take a moment to consider the

Warnings: Grimmjow and Lilinette - therefore, language and violence.

Chapter 21 - Where Ulquiorra learns to watch his pockets on the subway.

* * *

Grimmjow shrugged.

'Don't wanna chat? That's fine with me…I think I've already told you to blow me when we last met. The offer still stands.' The Sexta concluded, with a wolfish grin. Ulquiorra had looked away from him, slowly, pointedly demonstrating that in his universe, Grimmjow could as well have been dead.

'Does Stark know that you are here, Fracction?' he asked, impassively turning his head towards Lilinette; she looked up at Grimmjow as if looking for help with the response.

'Uhm, you can…blow…me…too…_I_ _guess!_?' she uttered, her features and tone growing more questioning with each word she spoke. The Sexta smiled triumphantly, and nodded in paternal approval.

'I will take that as an affirmative response,' Ulquiorra answered, on the same even tone. 'A pity.'

'Don't tell me that surprises you, Ulquiorra,' Grimmjow answered, looking to the Cuarta with narrowed eyes. 'You know Stark as well as I do.'

'It does not surprise me,' Ulquiorra replied. 'Nor, to a certain extent, does it displease me…'

'Wanna sit a bit closer to Aizen so he can touch your leg under the table, huh?' the Sexta laughed.

Ulquiorra _almost _smirked; on his features, it simply implied that his mouth had lost its perpetual pout and actually straightened. No, that wasn't it, and both of them knew it – Ulquiorra was not one of the foolish believers. He was probably the only one among the Espada who actually _understood_ whatever Aizen's plans were, and he had probably approved of the Shinigami's tacit thinning of those who might have rebelled. Grinning, Grimmjow wondered whether it had been Ulquiorra himself to press Stark's prudent inclusion on the list of the disposable; Aizen himself had no knowledge of the Vasto Lorde's histories, and could never truly have suspected the dimensions of Stark's spite against him…unless another Vasto Lorde, an ancient Vasto Lorde, who'd clashed with Stark repeatedly over many centuries of drawing and redrawing hunting territories had enlightened him on the matter.

'How damaged are you, Yammy?' the Cuarta asked, not turning towards the giant.

'Not damaged enough.' The Decima responded, catching his breath. 'It was great _suerte (1)_ that you came when you did, _compadre(2)_.'

The Cuarta nodded slowly, then once again turned his attention to Grimmjow.

'You cannot win against me, Sexta,' he said, blankly – not a provocation, but a statement of fact. 'And I would prefer to drag your insubordinate _breathing_ carcass before Aizen-sama, so he decides your fate, as well as the fate of all others who would sabotage our efforts.'

'_Our?'_ Grimmjow laughed. 'You crack me up. Think you're in on the plot, do ya?'

'I do not think I am, Adjucha. I know I am. If I were you, I would yield and hope for a swift punishment…'

'You're afraid of me,' Grimmjow answered, as if he had not heard the Cuarta speak. 'You're damned scared of me – of fighting me, but also of seeing how truly alike you an' I are. You're scared of whatever of your true self is left under that lizard skin, you stupid fawning cunt. That makes you pathetic.'

This time, the insult had hit the mark, and Ulquiorra had, indeed, smirked.

'You ain't that self disciplined,' Grimmjow followed, grinning. 'And you ain't above the rest of us. You're still a tortured little ghost in search of a purpose, an' Aizen ain't it, not fully. You still need to validate yourself, not in his eyes, but before your own; that's why you went to screw with Kurosaki, alone. 'Cuz, in the end, you too _need_ to know who the strongest is.'

'You offer me surrender?' the Sexta snarled, extending his sword arm to the side. 'Let me offer ya resolution in turn, and answer your dilemma. You ain't got to worry about who the strongest is, Ulquiorra – I dunno about you and Stark, and I ain't got a clue about you and Kurosaki, but I can settle the matter between you and me. Wanna know who is the strongest? Why do ya have to ask? Both of us know _I _am.'

'See to the Fracction,' Ulquiorra commanded Yammy. 'Then…' His irises contracted into pinpoints. 'Stay out of it. This insolence needs to be punished.'

Grimmjow took a step forward, no longer grinning.

_You really do need to know, Ulquiorra. How sad._

He charged; Ulquiorra parried, grabbing Pantera's blade with his right hand and turning the room into a scalding hell of energy. Grimmjow took a swift step to the side, raising the sword and forcing his opponent defenses open. He shot a Cero underneath the Cuarta's raised elbow, aiming it squarely at his chest. Ulquiorra had felt it coming however, and met it with his left forearm, brushing the red rays aside, and pushing himself away from Grimmjow – Pantera's blade slipped through his palm as the Sexta slid aside, and dark blood splattered on the floor when the Cuarta shook his wrist.

He vanished and reappeared behind Grimmjow, kicking him between the shoulder blades. Grimmjow barely had time to lift his arm to protect his face before he slammed into the shattered floor, sharp shards of rock digging into his flesh. He painstakingly turned to face up, feeling as if the movement had taken millennia; the cold blast of the green Cero was already almost upon him. He turned Pantera's blade flat, wincing in pain as the energy of the blast seeped along and through the metal, but away from his chest. Grimmjow brought his left forearm forward to block the next hit, yet Ulquiorra's bleeding fist was not aimed at his jaw; the Sexta curled helplessly as the cold, white hand connected to his stomach, and barely registered the kick to the face that made him fly against the wall to Lilinette's side.

Grimmjow stood and shook his head, to clear the dizziness and pain.

'You gotta release, Grimm,' the Fracction whimpered.

'I won't. Not yet.' he answered, cringing. 'He's too proud to release if I haven't – and if he goes into resurrection,' the Sexta whispered to Lilinette, as Ulquiorra drifted slowly upwards to glance at the two with an expression that was close to being mocking, 'we're fucked. _Proper_ fucked.'

'I thought you said you were better than him,' she breathed.

'An' of all the shit I say, _that_ you believed?' he grinned, spitting to the side and wiping the blood off his chin with the back of his hand. 'Eh, Yammy!' he shouted. 'You afraid of a Fracction, dude? Why aren't you going at her?'

The giant scowled, revealing his large, square teeth, while the muscles in his arm tensed, pythons moving under the blistered skin – he had not sheathed his sword, and Lilinette cranked her nose.

'Aren't we being slightly over-optimistic?' she hissed. 'You expect me to fight a released Espada?'

'I expect you to find an opening,' Grimmjow answered, slowly drifting upwards in his turn. 'An' not with Yammy, kiddo. Yammy's a joke.'

'Eh?' she breathed, in utter disbelief.

'Ulquiorra's not looking out for you, Lilinette. He's only watching out for me – because he believed my shit too. I'll keep him busy – you keep him from getting to resurrection. At least until Stark gets here.'

She frowned then, slowly, grinned in understanding.

'Your balls ain't bigger than your brain after all,' Lilinette laughed.

'If you're planning on telling anyone, I'm gonna have to kill you.' Grimmjow answered, the final words of his sentence drowned in the noise of his Cero; Ulquiorra easily deflected it towards the ceiling, and more rays of moonlight seeped in, slipping sharply off Pantera's blade and dancing over the torn walls. Then for a second, there was darkness.

Grimmjow reappeared above the Cuarta, pressing his heel into Ulquiorra's shoulder; the Cuarta had expected another Cero, not a physical blow. He'd been thrown off balance, and slipped downwards a few feet, meeting Grimmjow's blast with his open hand. The light of the explosion had caused him to close his eyes for a mere second, yet the time had been sufficient for Grimmjow to change direction in mid air and position himself behind the Cuarta. Pantera had hissed up, too slow to cut into Ulquiorra's back, but coming close enough to slice his jacket open. Smirking in displeasure and turning on himself, the green eyed Arrancar had extended his arm, the index finger pressed against Grimmjow's chest – the Sexta grinned. His hand encircled Ulquiorra's wrist to pull it to the side and draw the Cuarta closer to Pantera's gleaming tip; sensing the danger, Ulquiorra powerfully kicked against Grimmjow's chest, and the two drifted away from each other, leaving thick, dark lines of energy in the wake of their heels.

The strength of his own attack had made Ulquiorra drift wide, and slam against the wall; in turn, Grimmjow had felt Lilinette's warm hands on his shoulders. She'd come between him and the stone, gently pushing him straight and helping him change direction – he'd turn around to wink at her, in sign of thanks, but she was already gone. Beneath Grimmjow's feet, the Decima had not been ready for her attack, only bringing his arm up to block it in the very last second; the floor had cracked, dark ridges rising outwards.

'Hallo!' Lilinette had hollered, landing a foot away, but waving as if Yammy had been miles in the distance. 'Did ya miss me?'

Furious, the giant had brought his sword into a low, circular slash; Lilinette had bent her knees, letting the sword slip above her, then dashed forward, passing between his legs and spinning to kick him in the testicles as she passed. Yammy grunted in pain and doubled over, leaning on his sword. She bounced on the wall, darting up and relying on Grimmjow's arm to change her course. Though Pantera had been propped against Ulquiorra's wrist, the Sexta had extended his left hand to the side, allowing her to grab hold of it, rotate, and let go in perfect timing to land on Yammy's back, sprawling the giant on his belly, and making him cut his hand on his own sword.

'Two point landing for a perfect grade!' Lilinette chimed, bowing twice, one to the right and once to the left, as if to an enthralled audience. 'Thank you! Thank you! I'll be in town 'till Thursday! Watch my act, and get a five week stay in Szayel's intensive care unit for free!'

'Damn you…_perra(3)_!' Yammy growled, painstakingly hoisting himself up; he had been leaning on the sword so heavily that the blade slipped a foot into the stone. The Decima straightened, pulling the sword free. 'You're going to die now.'

'Oh, you got a sword,' Lilinette giggled. 'What do ya know? I gots one too!'

She reached up to the horn of her mask, twisting it outwards and pulling it loose; an explosion from above made Yammy wince and look to the side. When he's next looked to her, Lilinette's horn was gone, leaving her mask with two symmetrical stubs. He frowned in confusion as the girl pressed the twisted, solid piece of ivory between her palms, rotating her hands in opposite directions and making two concealed blades slip out of their sheath. With a barely audible mechanical click, the horn split into two, the slight curves of the separated halves latching securely around Lilinette's wrists, with the short, sharp and curved blades gleaming along her thin middle fingers, like iron claws.

'Actually,' she said, with a wide grin. 'I gots two.'

'You call those swords?' Yammy blurted incredulously. 'Aren't they kind of…small?' the giant laughed out loud, holding his belly.

'Hey, size don't matter! It's all in the skill,' she protested and frowned, looking deeply insulted.

'And don't ya forget that…later!' Grimmjow whispered, hissing by so fast, that she had barely had time to step to the side and avoid Pantera.

'That's how ya lie to Apache, huh, jackass?' Lilinette shrieked, then shrieked again, this time inarticulately, as Ulquiorra hissed by in his turn; he looked to her as he passed, narrowing his feline, fluorescent eyes and aiming to knock her aside with the back of his wrist. Lilinette had been fast enough to parry the slap. Ulquiorra's blood had splattered on her cheek, cold, dark and unpleasant. He'd disappeared in the next blink, not allowing her time to enjoy the fact that she had injured him, albeit ever so slightly. Yammy had noticed it, however, his wide jaw hanging slack in amazement.

'Oh ya,' Lilinette chuckled. 'I can hurt him. And if I can hurt _him_, imagine what I can do to you, you fat lump!'

She vanished, and Yammy had brought his sword across his chest, ready to parry. He had not expected to see her upside down face hanging just inches away from his own when she had materialized again. Her fist blades had slipped to either side of the Decima's sword - one inwards, one outwards - forming a counterbalance that kept him from jerking the sword aside; she had arched through the air, pulling his arm up, and solidly digging her heels in his kidneys. Her body looked as elastic as rubber, but it felt sharper than steel. Using his own spine as support point, she had attempted to jerk Yammy's sword away. The Decima had held on solidly, and attempted to pull back, only to find himself spinning in the air and slamming face down into the floor, his wheight carried by the strength of his own effort.

'You're dead!' he bellowed, face flushed with fury and embarrassment. Yammy jumped to his feet. 'Dead, you hear me?'

'The entirety of Hueco Mundo heard ya,' Lilinette responded. 'Or maybe not,' she shrugged, impassively, as large portions of the ceiling started crashing down all around her, blown apart by yet one more of Grimmjow's ill fated Grand Rey Cero.

'Enough!' Yammy shouted. 'You'll swallow your words…'

Ulquiorra had briefly landed between them, stopping only for long enough to fire a Cero of his own, then vanishing to thin air.

'_Aplasta, rinoceronte(4)_!' the Decima had said, bringing the hilt of his sword to his forehead; the blade melted into faint, red lines of energy which ran along the three bevels in his skull before crawling upwards along the scabbard to form a sharp, straight horn.

Thick, wide plates of bone darted out of the Yammy's skull, slipping downwards and to the sides to cover his shoulders and cheeks; sharp, ragged crests protruded from his spine, stretching to engulf his ribcage as he bent forward on fists suddenly transformed into humongous hooves. He raised himself on his short, powerful hind legs, then brought all his wheight forward, the shock wave rippling though the floor, as if the stone had been liquid, knocking Lilinette off her feet.

Yammy breathed out, hot vapor pouring out of his wide nostrils, then bowed his snout and swiped his head to the side, drawing the cutting contour of an energy field which expanded forth, wobbling along the torn floor. Lilinette flipped backwards to avoid it – it flowed hotly beneath her feet. The contact with the stone was all the tortured tower could withstand; the too pierced rock crumbled under its own wheight, causing the right hand side of the wall to break completely. The tower hung in eerie balance for a second, before the left side gave in as well, and the massive structure leaned to the side with a terrible noise. It did not break, however - hanging by a hair, the upper portion slipped a few feet outwards until the gaping angle in the right side of the cylinder closed, the edge of the broken stone biting into the still solid portion below it.

The crash caught Ulquiorra unaware and next to the left wall; his evasive motions were exaggerated. Grimmjow's punch caught him flying down and looking behind, and projected him clearly through the stone. The Sexta followed Ulquiorra out under the impassible moon, his sword splitting the green Cero in half. Grimmjow kicked Ulquiorra back in, yet the blood that had scattered in the air, in a thin cold mist, had been his own. The teal haired Arrancar had exchanged a glance with Lilinette - Pantera missed Ulquiorra by inches.

Yammy hurled forward, each of his leaps an earthquake. Unimpressed, the Fracction waited for him to come within two feet; through the daze of his rage, the Decima thought he'd seen her grinning. He bowed his head, his horn splitting the air and throwing furious rays of reiatsu to the side as it drew upwards.

The blades of Lilinette's daggers stabbed mercilessly between his ribs, on either side of the massive body, not deep enough to injure him severely, but certainly deep enough to make sure that his furious thrashing could not shake her off.

'Wa-hoo!' she whooped, pressing her knees to his sides.

Confused and furious, Yammy kicked his hind legs, attempting to throw her off. The blades twisted painfully into his flesh, and the same slippery, disgusting feeling of hot oil seeped over his reinforced skin. She tried to flip him over again, but this time, he was too heavy for her to use his momentum against him – the daggers had sliced clear of his flesh as she had gracefully somersaulted forward, to land a foot in front of him.

Without mercy, his horn had cut across her stomach, black blood splattering over his bone-white snout. Lilinette drew back, looking at the dark patches that spread on her white gloves as if the blood had belonged to another. Her vision blurred.

_I feel no pain._

How wondrous.

_I only feel rage._

How fortunate.

_I will kill him, before the end._

How predictable.

Yammy snorted hotly, taking a few steps back, and shaking his body as if to get rid to the mere sensation of her presence.

'_Fluja, argento vivo…(5)' _she whispered, crossing her arms over her chest so tightly that the tips of her daggers scratched the skin of her shoulders. Quicksilver instead of blood flowed from the wounds, spreading thinly across her body like a shimmering, fluid second layer of skin. The blades of her daggers receded into her fists, gold light briefly expanding around her fingers and pointlessly seeking to settle into a form she did not yet master, before flickering upwards over her face. Her mask withdrew from her features, revealing her second eye, her forehead, and strands of faded, blonde hair. In turn, the mask's protection grew across her back, arms and legs, over her feet, ascending over her chest - not solid, but translucent, hesitant…insecure, Yammy thought, crashing forward, his merciless horn leaning down for the kill.

It stabbed into her chest, at the height of her heart.

Fiery rays flew over Lilinette's skin, sliding towards the point of impact, whirling and concentrating to a golden area no larger than a coin; the world froze in place. Ulquiorra's knee crushed Grimmjow's stomach; in flight, Pantera's blade slashed behind the Cuarta's shoulders as Grimmjow flew back, barely aware of his pained and bloodied self.

No thicker than the thinnest of hairs, cracks spread through Yammy's horn – the rhinoceros yelped and stomped its hooves irregularly, causing the fail structure of the tower to tremble and only hold together by a miracle. He thrashed his head from side to side, his reiatsu draining out in thick, desperate and inordinate lines.

Reduced to dust, the horn scattered to the four winds. Its remains glittered briefly in the moonlight that poured generously through the pierced walls, then vanished, as the Decima's resurrection faded in a whimper.

A whimper that was enough to make Ulquiorra look down.

Fast, faster than thought, the Segunda Fracction abandoned Yammy and flew upwards, her fist connecting to Ulquiorra's jaw; there was no pain for the Cuarta, merely surprise. He felt the girl's wrist compress, helpless against his Hierro; he heard Lilinette's bones crack, and his tensed fingers stabbed forward, into thin air. She was already behind him, her fiery reiatsu gathering in his skull as her foot rested on his spine.

'Gran Rey Cero,' Lilinette whispered. Her fingers grabbed hold to the back of the Cuarta's neck, before her reiatsu burst, and the world turned to molasses.

Years, decades, might have gone by before Ulquiorra spun, ignoring the disgusting scent of burned hair and cloth. This time, his hand found semi-solid mass, the fingernail of his thumb cutting though her flesh just as his other fingers slipped through the hole in her stomach, coming out through her back. He shoved his arm in, up to the elbow, clenching his fist to make sure she would not escape, then swung her to the side, only straightening his fingers when he had felt ascertained that it was the end. The frail flicker of energy had flown loose slowly, her dark, cold blood leaving a sickening trail under her defeated form, as it slowly dripped to the floor. It had the consistency of honey.

'Insubordinate creature,' Ulquiorra hissed, shaking his hand to remove her blood from his fingers. 'The Gran Rey Cero is forbidden to Fracctiones.' He added, in a deeply indifferent tone.

'Does it seem to ya like she needs anyone's permission?' Grimmjow answered, pushing Pantera onwards. Ulquiorra parried, but winced as the Sexta's sword moved forth, then back, in a see-saw motion, severing the tendons in his wrist. 'It is over, Ulquiorra…' he breathed, dashing away.

Pantera embedded herself a foot into the crooked wall as Grimmjow landed beside her, on one bent knee.

His ribcage was crushed, and he was bleeding, outside and_ inside_; grinning in amusement, Grimmjow brought his fingers up to feel his cheekbone, which was awkwardly mobile and loose under his skin. He grabbed hold of Pantera's blade to keep himself in place on the angled wall.

'_Superbia_,' Grimmjow whispered. 'Arrogance. Pride…'

Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed.

'You've sinned in pride…I promised ya resolution, and here it is.' Grimmjow manically cackled. 'I lied - I ain't stronger than you, Ulquiorra. But I sure am a hell of a lot _smarter_, and sure as shit not too proud to stab you in the back again, you arrogant blind cunt!'

The Cuarta's fingers drifted downwards to his sword, eager to complete his essence and do away with the blasphemer, yet – there was nothing further. Nothing to have, nothing to hold. Ulquiorra looked up, in genuine surprise; Grimmjow spit blood.

'Look behind ya,' he laughed, though crimson teeth.

'D'ya think…ya have use for this?' Lilinette laughed; the sound was pained and shaky, but nonetheless victorious. Slowly, her broken right arm hanging limply by her side, she'd extended her left arm before her, holding the Cuarta's sword's out by the scabbard – for a moment, Ulquiorra's mind had refused the reality that his senses offered. His fingers had again descended to his belt, grasping painfully at thin air in the place where the hilt should have been.

Ulquiorra frowned, dark lips pressed furiously together. He finally understood; she had never meant to hit him with her underdeveloped Cero; she had never thought she could defeat him and hadn't attempted to. She had simply used all of herself to distract him for as long as it was needed for her hands - her too quick to notice hands - to grab hold of his sword.

'How dare you…' the Quarta breathed, feeling that his fury had made his blood freeze solidly in his veins – he did not finish the phrase before whipping forward, pretty features cranked in disgust. He'd intended to slap her across the face, feeling assured that it would be enough to kill her; though her armor still shivered around her, it gave off no smell of reiatsu, no Hierro. The back of his hand stopped barely inches from the girl's face, energy crackling against Pantera's hilt; with surprise, Ulquiorra noted the motion painful now that he was separated from the better part of his reiatsu.

'Lilinette, don't act like fucking Szayel!' Grimmjow exclaimed, not in anger but in concern. 'How long do you think I can hold him back without releasing, huh? Finish it! Get out of here with the bloody thing!' He whispered, teeth clenched with the effort of keeping Ulquiorra's howling reiatsu at bay.

She had tried to, dashing upwards towards the hole in tilted ceiling, but this time Ulquiorra had been quicker than the both of them, barring her way and kicking her in the chest; he'd attempted to grab hold of her wrist and yank his weapon away, but the Fracction's arm, oddly flexible and fluid had melted between his fingers, as if not flesh and bone, but deceitful, shapeless liquid had filled her body. The sword had briefly fallen between their bodies as she had let go of the hilt to free herself, yet, her delicate features twisted in pain, Lilinette had caught it again with her injured right hand, dragging it down as she fell or rather was shot towards the floor in a flurry of loose golden reiatsu.

Not even Ulquiorra could keep up with the momentum that his own kick had given the Fracction's body. Grimmjow caught her, but he couldn't break the destructive speed of her fall; understanding that he could still take far more punishment than she could, he'd wrapped his arms around her shoulders, allowing himself to fall as well and wincing as the scalding tongues of the Cero that hit him from behind burned the final tattered remnants of his vest.

'You're real pretty when you have both eyes showin', blondie,' he'd whispered in her ear, not knowing what else to say. He had thought her unconscious, but she wasn't – dark eyelashes fluttered open and Lilinette smiled through the pain, a trace of adult female malice that she probably did not even know she had glittering in her eyes. She somehow managed to look mischievous and innocent, childishly trusting and genuinely strong at the same time.

There's no wonder Stark would do anything for her, Grimmjow dully thought, feeling that the blow of Ulquiorra's Cero, the Cuarta's writhing fury and the speed of the fall had all melted to the light in her wide eyes. One moment of this kind of trust – not trust out of weakness of the body or spirit, but genuine trust - would be sufficient purpose to fill eternity.

He landed on one knee, and gently let go of Lilinette, before standing. He narrowed his eyes and gathered his energy, sending swirls of dust in the air and impeding the aim of his own Gran Rey Cero; Ulquiorra had only half blocked it, the coattails and sleeves of his jacket briefly catching blue flames. The Cuarta neither noticed nor cared, his Hierro cutting an elliptical protective sphere through the teal ray. There was no sign of anger on his impassible, pale features as he flew down, but even though Ulquiorra was still tens of feet away, Grimmjow could _feel_ the gathering of energy, in front of him, to his sides and oddly, behind him, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand. He grabbed Lilinette by the collar of her vest, pulling her close and brought Pantera up, alongside his body.

The rock beneath his feet cracked and dissipated into sand, which rose, snaking around his body and rising with the tornado of gathering reiatsu.

'_Garra(6)…' _Grimmjow growled, his fingernails screeching painfully along the sword he'd turned flat; Pantera purred, alive under his touch, and her blade shone blue, open and ready to pounce forth.

'Die, rebel,' Ulquiorra whispered, bursting in through the clouds of cutting sand - his hand grabbed hold of the not yet released blade by its own volition; open to the outer world and on the point of fusing with the Sexta, Pantera's unsealed form froze to cold green, and helplessly conducted all the destructive force of the Gran Rey Cero into Grimmjow's body.

The Sexta heard the formulation of his pardon - _Getsuga Tenshou_ – long after his too injured form was hurled to the side.

**Random Spanish words in the text**

_1 - Suerte: Good luck._

_2 - Compadre: My friend/ compatriot._

_3 - Perra: Bitch._

_4 - Aplasta, rinoceronte: Crush, rhinoceros. _Yammy's resurrection, courtesy of Maidros likening him to one continuously :)

_5 - Fluja, argento vivo: Flow, quicksilver. _Lilinette's resurection, courtesy of myself. And before you even begin to protest, all Numeros so far have had resurectiones. if Ilford had one, I can't see why Lili can't get one too :D

_6 - Garra: Claw_, but that you already knew.

Up next - Elsewhere in Las Noches, Ishida learns to share.


	22. Brownian Disorder

Buon giorno dalla sollegiata Citta Eterna :) Here I am, two hundred feet away from the Pope, and he has not yet come to pay his respects...or exorcise me, whichever comes first.

I apologise for the fact that the chapter is not yet_ fully _complete in my mind. Yet, that's the bad news. The good news is that the next update shall be very quick, since I am only posting what seems like a logical division of my latest efforts. Thank all for reading and commenting

Chapter 22 - Where random movement of particles suspended in a liquid or gas occurs, in the absence of a mathematical model to describe it.

(Yes, it's a half-Szayel Aporro chapter.)

* * *

'Hm,' Szayel said, to no one in particular.

The syllable never implied anything good.

He had finished the redesign of his modules a few minutes before. Then, he had set them to run in the background and had spent his time watching a few loops of what seemed to be the reiatsu pattern recording of his unfortunate encounter with the Quincy's Sprenger. Three lines ran across the screen before him, so many times that even Ishida had figured out what they were – a flat, red one that perked mildly once, before dropping to a constant level. Abarai, and his suicidal Kidou. A bright pink one, that ran flat far above the other two, without even the most minute trace of variation. With one exception – the moment when the white line that represented the level of Ishida's own reiatsu exploded upwards, thrice surpassing Szayel's reading; then, the pink line had dropped significantly, almost to nothing, before trickling back up.

The glass container around the Quincy had lifted abruptly – Ishida had been leaning his shoulders against it, and he had almost fallen backwards as his support vanished. Quickly doing away with the surprise, Ishida rose to his feet – not as swiftly or gracefully as he would have liked.

'What do you want?' he asked, rebelliously looking at Szayel. The Octava slowly turned his chair around and glanced at the Quincy for a few long seconds before arching his eyebrow and grinning.

'Long version or short version?' he purred.

'Short,' the Quincy snapped.

'I want to have a closer look at your weapons,' the Octava answered, with a deep sigh that clearly showed he would have preferred to explain himself at length. The archer's features twisted into a terrible scowl and, within a flash, his bow had materialized before him. Szayel had sighed in utter boredom.

'Firstly,' the Octava said, raising his index, 'I've already seen _that _weapon – we both, I hope recall to what effect.'

Indeed, Ishida had thought, his arm trembling slightly, he hadn't forgotten.

'Secondly,' Szayel Aporro continued, adding his middle finger to his index, 'You should suspect that if Mayuri Kurosutchi's bankai can be suppressed by the walls of this chamber, your bow has no chance of lasting more than a few seconds.'

'And thirdly,' he added, raising a third finger and narrowing his eyes, 'if I were you, I would not wave weapons at the person who has my ill-chosen friend _and _romantic interest at his mercy, to drown, suffocate, poison or electrocute with the flick of a switch.'

'You're a monster!' Ishida breathed.

'Yes, perhaps…but my structured communication skills are tremendous. Don't you think so?' Szayel grinned merrily. 'Now,' he said turning his back on the Quincy, 'please come closer.'

Unconsciously, Ishida grabbed the hilt of the Steele Schneider; driven by his anger rather than his concentration, the sword lit, its powerful glow reflecting on Szayel's panels.

'Should I add a fourth reason?' Szayel muttered, this time no longer amused. 'Very well – I shall. If you actually do manage to stab me in the back or slit my throat as you doubtlessly think you could, what do you think would happen to Nemu-chan?' Ishida cringed, and the blue glimmer dissipated. 'Let's dispense with the niceties, time is running short and I would not have let you out of the container, fully armed, if I had any genuine cause to fear for my safety. Come closer and hand me that sword hilt, please.' He distractedly concluded. 'Stark seems to think insurrection is a team sport, let's indulge him and play a round his way.' The Octava whispered, mostly to himself.

Shaking his head in dismay, Ishida advanced and slammed the silver hilt on the Espada's key panel, making him wince.

'Hand, not _throw,_ or _smash,'_ Szayel had protested, quickly grabbing the piece of iron and lifting it to see if it had scratched his panel. Once he had made sure his keys had in no way been damaged, the Octava had begun twisting the Steele Schneider on all sides, looking along the length of the two silver segments, briefly tapping on the looped ending, as if he'd been afraid of touching it for too long - and he'd been right to be cautious. Every time that his skin came close enough to the metal, the weapon pinched him, drawing faint, pink lines of energy out of Szayel's fingers and into itself. Szayel had given the weapon a quick whiff, not by lifting it to his nose, but by waving his fingers around it – in the same way, Ishida dully thought, that one was instructed to smell acetic acid.

'It has no reiatsu of its own, correct?' he asked, turning his chair and looking up at the Quincy. Surprised by the expression on the Octava's features, which clearly showed that his curiosity was sufficient to make him forget about being malicious, Ishida nodded.

'It does not. It is however attuned to mine,' he said, taking a step to the side. 'You cannot use it…'

'Please,' Szayel muttered; he clicked open a flat drawer underneath his keyboard and carefully placed the Steele Schneider inside. 'Did Fornicares look like she needs any help? Besides, the term 'attunement' is needlessly arcane – attunement simply implies that the metal molecules are polarized to conduct a certain reiatsu. Nothing that a mass spectrometer reading and proper realignment cannot fix. Sit, Ishida Uryu, you're standing on my nerves. I hate having people looking over my shoulder.'

The archer would have refused the offer, had he had time to do so; he did not. A second seat came out of the floor, spreading open like a paper cup, and Szayel's reiatsu pressed him down without allowing him time to protest.

The image of the Steele Schneider formed on the screen before them, and, as if the Quincy had simply fallen out of existence, Szayel had leaned forward, biting the nail on his thumb – he'd caught himself in a second, grabbed his pencil and leaned in once more. He'd caused a small amount of reiatsu to trickle into the weapon, watching the looped ending get charged, then narrowing his eyes as the energy slipped downwards towards the hilt, along the Steele Schneider's right edge.

'Just as I thought – one side stores, the other conducts,' he muttered. 'If you place five of these in a certain pattern, they feed on the enemy's reiatsu until they are fully charged. By adding the catalyst, you cause them to transform the stored reiatsu into your own – their basic function - and then, they amplify each other…'

'Triggering a massive explosion which burns the target to a crisp,' Ishida had answered, with great satisfaction. Szayel looked up, taking the pencil out of his mouth and quickly balancing it between his index and middle finger, as if trying to decide what to do with the Quincy's words.

'I beg to differ,' he drawled, at length. 'Triggering a moderately powerful surge of reiatsu which causes the center to be mildly inconvenienced and need a haircut,' the Octava purred, adjusting his glasses and looking at the Quincy though dangerously narrowed eyes, as if inviting contradiction. 'I would assume,' he continued, seemingly pleased at Ishida's lack of reaction, 'that when you placed these in formation, you placed them with the conductive side inwards.'

'Yes,' Ishida nodded, not understanding what Szayel was hinting at.

'What happens if you place them with the conductive side outwards?'

'You waste the catalyst,' the archer shrugged. 'Instead of conducting the reiatsu inwards, they will scatter it…'

'Aha!' Szayel exclaimed, darting to his feet and clenching a victorious little fist. 'My intuition is correct, as always!'

He scratched his chin, the started pacing rapidly from side to side, only stopping for a few seconds to look at Renji and grin even wider.

'What in God's name…' Ishida breathed, feeling panicked at the Arrancar's obvious and incomprehensible satisfaction.

'Wait!' Szayel interrupted, raising his index towards Ishida to keep him quiet. 'I have not fully formulated my hypothesis…One more data point!' he exclaimed; he was so excited that he did not walk back to his panels, but rather used his Sonido to reappear within inches of the Quincy. He brought the three reiatsu readings back into focus, concentrating on his own pattern, and Renji's. 'One final question, Quincy,' he said, as Ishida leaned back, trying to draw as far away as possible from the Espada who was all but leaning on top of him. 'Why did only my reiatsu drop, and not his?'

'Because you were the target…?' the archer frowned.

Szayel's shoulders drooped, his face a perfect picture of offended intelligence.

'Do not be needlessly dense, Ishida Uryu.' He sighed. 'How did an inanimate object, with no reiatsu of its own, know that I was the target? Both me and Abarai were sufficiently close to the center of your pattern for it to target us both. So then, why did it only steal my reiatsu? Did you whisper my name in its ear? Did you say it three times, quickly? Clinked your heels together, hoping your shoes will take you away from Oz, and away from the wicked witch of the eighth tower?'

'I struck you with one of the Steele Schneider,' Ishida snarled, losing his patience. 'Or do you fail to remember _that_? It became attuned to you, then.'

Szayel smirked, considering his words, then sighed, and let himself drop on the chair, leaning his chin on his palm and gazing dreamily at the screen.

'Not as you predicted?' Ishida asked, not bothering to disguise the irony in his tone.

'On the contrary,' Szayel sighed again. 'It is just as I predicted. But it is slightly less fortuitous than I had hoped.'

After a few more moments of consideration, and a few more deeply thoughtful sighs, which accurately showed the Octava carried the wheight of the universe on his shoulders, Szayel clicked the reiatsu readings away, and brought up a series of pictures.

'What should I expect of this one?' he asked. The question had clearly been directed at Ishida, yet it had been Renji's laughter to flood the room, exploding from the Octava's speakers. Obviously annoyed, Szayel cut the sound in sign of punishment – the motion was pointless however.

Renji continued to laugh; he would have given an arm and a leg to witness that particular encounter.

* * *

Still shocked, Ichigo considered the scene before him, trying to make sense of whatever had been going on before he had entered the room. Grimmjow was in a deplorable state, but, in spite of all logic, he still stood. The Sexta had not released; he had clearly fought a battle that was beyond his means without resorting to his full strength. On the other hand, Ulquiorra himself did not look like a basket of fresh flowers. Not necessarily because he was too badly injured – his jacket was torn in places, and he had a few bruises, cuts and burn marks, yet none of them were more than superficial - because he actuallylooked…

Well, Ichigo thought, there was not truly a way around thinking it.

Ulquiorra actually looked…pissed.

The expression on his face had not changed, of course, yet, his eyes were burning with rage, pupils dilated to the point where they seemed solid green, with no trace of sclera. Furthermore, the concentration of his anger made the air in the room crisp and cutting, like the first breath of fresh air on a winter morning. The sensation of it was so overwhelming that Ichigo noticed the fact that Yammy did not have a zanpakutoh long before he noticed Ulquiorra did not have his, either.

It had been perhaps because of this that the effort of blocking Ichigo's attack had made Ulquiorra slip across the room, next to Yammy, leaving the Shinigami to stand in the center, between the two groups of Arrancar, literally between two evils of which none was the lesser.

As if to reinforce the sensation, Grimmjow laughed.

'Kurosaki!' he said, slowly and painstakingly straightening. 'I am starting to give Szayel's homoerotic fixation theory some serious thought, dude – if I am not finding you, you're finding me, these days…'

'Absolute gayness,' Lilinette winced, also willing herself to her feet, her frail forearm crossed over her stomach as if she had been hoping it would contain the blood that trickled out of her wound; the healer in Isane cringed.

'Watch it, kid!' Grimmjow snapped over his shoulder. He was half smiling, however, the odd warmth in his eyes contradicting the sound of his voice. 'This ain't bad,' he whispered, to Lilinette alone. 'Should hold us till Stark gets here, and he's close.' The Fracction nodded, not taking her eyes off Ulquiorra and grasping the zanpakutoh's scabbard so tightly that the light of her shimmering armor started seeping into the wood.

'What have you gotten yourself into, Grimmjow?' Ichigo asked, taking a resolute step to the center of the chamber; at his side, Byakuya had also stepped up, leaving Isane slightly behind to consider Lilinette. The child Arrancar was not only bleeding, Isane thought - her reiatsu was slowly draining towards the edges of her wound, dissipating around her, like snow blown away in a blizzard. If the wound was not closed soon, the girl would simply fade away, probably not even realizing she was dying until a few seconds before it actually came to pass. Shaking her head to remove the overwhelming sensation of compassion, she had followed, a few seconds later – yet, still undecided, the three Shinigami had not fully turned to either of the Arrancar groups, standing between them in an odd, semicircular formation which clearly showed they thought each of the four was as likely to attack them as the other.

'Ain't it obvious?' Grimmjow grinned. 'I had a small unresolved problem with Ulquiorra, so I'm solving it.'

'Looks more like he's solving it,' Ichigo observed, turning to face the Cuarta, who had yet to move or utter sound. The human resolutely turned to face Ulquiorra and raised his sword, his instincts leading the way for his mind.

'Either way, it gets solved,' Grimmjow had remarked from behind, with unexpectedly little spite. 'Hey, pretty boy,' he growled. 'The enemy is the other way.'

Byakuya arched an eyebrow, to demonstrate that he was unconvinced – he knew this one, he remembered him all too well. This particular Arrancar had been the one to grievously injure Rukia, and, had he had a shred less self discipline, Kuchiki would have been tempted to take revenge; still, the fact that the Espada who had so clearly demonstrated his willingness for a truce by refusing to draw against Kenpachi had gone to great lengths to retrieve Grimmjow, as well as the Sexta's obvious injuries had kept Byakuya in place. He'd merely contented himself on fully facing the teal haired Arrancar, just as Kurosaki was facing Ulquiorra.

'Captain Kuchiki,' Isane whispered, making him turn his head to the side. 'I request permission to…'

Byakuya lowered his chin to disguise a smile – just as was the case with Unohana polite inquiries, Isane's _request_ was in fact, a uniquely tender and irrefutable way of informing that she had made a decision. His permission mattered little from this point, and, in truth, he saw no reason why he would oppose Isane's will.

He nodded, and Isane took a deep breath, settling her reiatsu before slowly and resolutely heading for Grimmjow. The Arrancar smirked, recognizing the healer.

'I ain't in need of you yet, woman,' he growled, tensing his burned sword arm.

'Nor am I intending to lend you any attention at this time,' Isane smiled, softly bowing her head as she passed him, and though her attitude seemed nothing short of submissive, there was an unmistakable edge of cold command in her voice.

She kneeled by Lilinette, looking up at the girl and smiling kindly.

'I am Kotetsu Isane, vice-captain of the fourth division,' Isane said, on a soothing tone. 'Please be at ease; you seem to be injured, and I would like to help you recover, as you are bleeding severely…'

'Don't fucking touch me,' Lilinette hissed, drawing back a step; the mere violence of the pronouncement had made her double over in pain, and Isane had not even blinked. 'Shinigami scum…'

Paying no attention to her, Isane had dropped her bag beside her bent knee, briefly fumbling inside it to extract a small, u-shaped golden device which resembled a musical tone setter – it was a reiatsu intensifier that she rarely used. But then, Isane thought, still smiling kindly, she rarely saw injuries such as these. With slow, but resolute gestures, she tried to pry the young girl's forearm away from the gash in her stomach. Lilinette's other hand caught her wrist, and Isane tensed at the sensation of the unspeakably hot, shimmering skin against her own. The Arrancar's palm felt as if every cell had been moving rapidly and inordinately, _writhing_, Isane thought, for lack of a better word.

'I ain't kidding, Shinigami, don't fucking touch…'

The sudden alarm in Lilinette's eyes registered but a fraction of a second after Isane had felt the presence of the other behind her. Reacting on instinct rather than thought, the Shinigami shifter her wheight and turned, just as Ulquiorra's hand split the air, hissing over her shoulder and past her cheek. None had caught the Cuarta's movement, not even Ichigo who had been facing him. She caught him in mid motion, stopping his fingers mere inches from the scabbard of his sword; Isane jumped to her feet as Lilinette dashed up and away. The vice captain frowned.

'Dishonorable,' she said, in a tone that was no longer kind.

Quicker than thought, the back of Ulquiorra's other hand lashed towards her face; Isane merely raised her forearm; intensified by the healing instrument she was still holding, her reiatsu solidified around her skin, making the Arrancar's attack recoil wide. The shield would not last long, Isane knew, against a reiatsu this strong and this toxic – but then, she would not really need it. She clenched her fingers on the Espada's wrist, not allowing him to pull away towards his true target, and closed her eyes. The silent Kidou exploded in her mind as well as in his flesh, far more powerful and damaging than either she or Ulquiorra himself had imagined. Suddenly panicked at the effects of a burst of alien energy that he apparently could not quickly defect or absorb, Ulquiorra winced in pain; it was the first time he had actually felt it since he had entered the room, the first time he had felt it in what seemed an indeterminate amount of time. In her turn, Isane cringed at the smell of sulphur; she's always detested the ways of destruction because of this smell – rot, decay – everything she stood against.

Isane felt the floor tremble beneath her feet, as if it had suddenly become liquid, waves of energy travelling along the torn rock. She'd lost her footing as, on the opposite side of the chamber, Yammy had slammed his fist into the stone. The attack had caught all but Grimmjow unaware; the Sexta had leaped into the air, flying over Ichigo to get to Yammy – from Isane's perspective, however, it was too late. Ulquiorra had managed to free himself and pull away. He'd cast no more than a dispassionate glance at his wrist, analyzing the deep burn as if the arm, as well as the wound, had belonged to another, and made for Lilinette at bewildering speed. Though Isane had already started her Shumpo on his trail, the Cuarta reached Lilinette a few ill-fated seconds before Isane.

He had not cared for the Getsuga Tenshou coming from behind more than he had cared for the fact that Pantera had bypassed Yammy's feeble defenses and pinned the giant's arm to the wall; eyes fixed on his Zanpakutoh, Ulquiorra had pushed all of his energy against the Fracction. Lilinette whimpered loudly, allowing him to get close enough to gain hope. A risky movement, she thought, feeling as if the surface of her skin, as well as the entirety of her being was frozen in place – yet, every inch that he gained on her now was an inch she would gain on him if she managed to Sonido and evade. She did; Ulquiorra's fingers grasped at thin air. He frowned, and quickly shifted to the side, allowing the dark waves of Ichigo's energy to slide past him.

The movement was the last that Lilinette could master, however; her energy was utterly spent and she could barely breathe from pain and exhaustion. Her resurrection faded, the armor crawling up her limbs to reform her mask and blades. Ulquiorra's zanpakutoh trembled between her fingers, her grasp suddenly feeble and uncertain, and even her balance in flight seemed to falter. Still, by an effort of furious will, she'd held on to the scabbard and slowly drifted upwards, her world narrowed to the green, frozen depth of Ulquiorra's eyes.

Lilinette let her one eyelid slide down over her eye and swallowed dry, taking what she thought was her last breath. The air was filled with a soft, pleasant scent, oddly calm and peaceful - she smelled the faint breeze of perfumed silk across her face, then cringed and all but shrieked at the explosion of energy, which stung at all of her senses at once, as if she could simultaneously hear, see and feel it. Lilinette frowned, opening her eye – all she could see before being able to focus enough to recognize the number six that was weaved into the cloak of the man who stood between her and Ulquiorra was immaculate white silk. All she could breathe was the faint, delicate scent of cherry blossoms.

'It is indeed not honorable,' Byakuya said, not turning his head towards her. 'Stealing never is. You should return his zanpakutoh, young Arrancar.'

Extending his arm, in a motion that ran the entire length of Senbonzakura's blade against Ulquiorra's wrist, Byakuya pushed the Cuarta away.

'…the fuck?' Grimmjow laughed from below; he powerfully leaned his leg against Yammy's shoulder, and yanking Pantera out of his arm just in time to avoid Ulquiorra's kick. 'Your buddy here not right in the head, Kurosaki Ichigo? You wanna see the Cuarta Resurrection for a few seconds before you die, dude?' he amusedly asked of Byakuya, coming up behind the captain of the sixth to retrieve Lilinette.

'That is a highly questionable assertion,' Kuchiki coldly responded, calmly slipping his sword back in its scabbard.

He barely had time to sheathe the weapon before Yammy, prompted into motion by a swift jerk of Ulquiorra's eyebrow, was upon him. Byakuya gracefully avoided the clumsy attack by stepping to the side, and slapped the Decima's wrist with the scabbard – the dry, precise gesture of a master punishing a student's mistake. The giant turned, his tense forearm as fast and deadly as the swipe of an iron club, but Byakuya's Shumpo was still faster; this time, the scabbard came down across the back of Yammy's head. Carried by the momentum of his spin and by the small, additional push of Kuchiki's blow, the Decima lost his balance, slamming his forehead into the wall. He slowly slipped downwards, only half aware of himself. Still, his attack had been enough to make sure that Kuchiki's attention drifted away from the Cuarta for a few seconds. No more than Ulquiorra needed.

The Cuarta only stood still only for long enough to make sure Ichigo would attack him. He let the human get close enough to the wall that a simple jump, and kick to the shoulder blades projected the substitute Shinigami's forehead into the stone – using Ichigo's back as spring board, he'd dashed towards Isane, a Cero clearing his path. The Shinigami dodged, as did Grimmjow, who had barely landed behind her. The speed of the motion had left the Sexta inattentive to the girl who was clinging to him, however, and though Grimmjow brought Pantera's blade downwards, to cross the scabbard of Ulquiorra's Zanpakutoh and effectively block any attempt at grabbing the sword, he'd misread the Cuarta's target.

With strength unbecoming his seemingly frail frame, Ulquiorra had grabbed the back of Lilinette's neck, pulling her upwards and out of Grimmjow's arms; it had not been the speed of the move, but rather its odd, implacable and fluid continuity that had stopped the Sexta from holding on tight. No more than a second had been needed for him to correctly realize that if he had tried to fight it in any way, the Cuarta's pull would have twisted the Fracction's throat. Still, although he had let go of Lilinette, Grimmjow did not let the deceit go unpunished – as Ulquiorra extended his arm, letting the young girl hang as limply as if she'd been a rag doll, Pantera's blade slid under his chin.

'Let go,' Grimmjow snarled, blue rays concentrating against the side of Ulquiorra's mask. As if neither the blade nor the threat of the Gran Rey Cero had existed, the Cuarta slowly turned his impassible face to the side, looking Grimmjow straight in the eyes with an expression that could only be described as mocking.

'Step back,' Ulquiorra said. He let the Fracction slide down a few inches, so that his fingers slipped under her blonde tresses. 'Step back or I shall crush her skull.'

'Let go,' Grimmjow sneered in return.

'Do you understand…' the Cuarta began, his voice finally vibrating with fury.

'I ain't talking to you, you dumb fuck!' Grimmjow exploded. 'Let go, Lilinette!'

The girl's fingers had stretched, letting the Zanpakutoh fall free – for the first time, Ulquiorra cursed under his breath, letting her fall in his turn and bringing the now free palm of his hand up to block the Gran Rey Cero. He kicked himself away from the Sexta, and made for the falling sword at a speed that made the rest of the Universe resign itself to slow motion.

Grimmjow straightened and darted down in his turn; starting from the opposite end of the chamber, Ichigo had already shadow stepped over half the distance, almost overtaking Yammy, who had angled in from above. Isane briefly crossed Ulquiorra's path, not hesitating a single second between grabbing the sword and breaking Lilinette's fall; though the Fracction tried to avoid being caught, by shifting direction as much as her fading strength allowed, the white haired young woman securely grabbed her by the side of the vest and pulled her out of the way.

Isane did not insist in holding on to the child – even the brief contact had been sufficient to make her feel the hatred that physically exulted from the Fracction's skin. She merely dragged Lilinette to the side, and Byakuya stepped up before them, protectively drawing his Zanpakutoh, and raising his forearm. The four that made for the falling sword looked like they would arrive at Ulquiorra's weapon at the same time, none of them was more than fifteen feet away, and each was moving so fast that the trails of their energy were visible to the naked eye.

Then, Ichigo's speed abruptly broke, dark lines whipping forward out of inertia to completely hide the human and the Arrancar that had stopped him from sight. The other three continued to move a fraction of a second longer. There was no success to be had.

Realizing that Ulquiorra was a crucial half a foot closer to the falling sword than he was, Grimmjow lifted his arm to fire a Cero; the light curved awkwardly upwards, causing a dark dome of energy to briefly become visible just a second before both Yammy and Grimmjow struck it and were helplessly reflected into random directions to opposite sides. Ulquiorra's own speed broke; for a second, he looked as if the air inside the barrier he had just crossed had been thousands of times more dense than the air outside it. The Cuarta arched protectively, sensing that if he did not, the sudden change in resistance would break his spine. Each of his motions slow, graceful and visible, Ulquiorra spun completely to land on one knee, just as Stark's gloved right hand securely caught the Zanpakutoh, ending the contest.

* * *

Up next - Hey! Aren't we missing Kenpachi?


	23. L'Ennui

_C'est l'Ennui! —l'œil chargé d'un pleur involontaire,_  
_Il rêve d'échafauds en fumant son houka._  
_Tu le connais, lecteur, ce monstre délicat,_  
_—Hypocrite lecteur,—mon semblable,—mon frère!_

I would rather not try myself at translating Baudelaire. There is a hopeless saxon translation of an essentially latin feeling, on Wiki. Can be resumed to - _Yeah, you bleed just to know you're alive._

Ennui is the french word for boredom that leads to chronic, not suicidal, but aggresive depession; the only one thing, aside an unbearably inflated reiatsu, that Kenpachi and Stark have in common.

Sounds like a Ken-chan vs. Stark chapter, doesn't it? well, it's Ulquiorra vs. Stark. Fooled ya!

Chapter 22 - Where Stark should fight Kenpachi. He fights Ulquiorra instead.

* * *

'You dropped something, Ulquiorra,' Stark yawned. 'But, as Lilinette would so wisely put it, finders keepers.'

'Ichigo!' Neliel exclaimed, drawing the Cuarta's attention away from Stark. 'I'm so happy to see you, Ichigo!'

'I think you cracked my ribs with that block,' the human boy protested faintly, trying to extricate himself from between the Arrancar's knees. 'And now you're strangling me!' he breathed, as Neliel let him get up, only to tightly wrap her arms around his neck.

'Uhm,' she responded, taking an embarrassed step back, and scratching her head. 'Sorry. If I hadn't caught you, you'd have broken your neck, though. So it's better that I broke your ribs – can fix them, too, if you want me to, Ichigo!'

'Eh, no, not really, thank you,' the orange haired boy muttered, trying to chase the disconcerting image of the beautiful woman that little Nel now was literally _drooling _over him. He felt across his chest as if to make sure that all parts that were meant to be solid were still solid.

'_That_ is Ichigo,' Neliel said, pointing to him, and obviously introducing him to Stark.

'I would never have guessed,' the Segunda responded, with a shrug. He only looked away from Ulquiorra to make sure Lilinette was still standing; catching his glance, the Fracction had smiled faintly, making his heart cringe. 'I won't be long,' he mouthed and in the distance, Lilinette nodded.

'Your choice of actions disappoints me just as much as your choice of allies does, Segunda,' Ulquiorra said, slowly.

'The first part I expected, though probably disappointment was not _quite_ the word I would have thought you'd use,' Stark lazily answered. With an implacable motion, he slipped Ulquiorra's sword under his own belt, to his right hip. 'As for allies, I would not leap that far with my conclusions. Except for Ichigo, whom I only know from exalted hearsay, I know none of the Shinigami…Hm,' he said, suddenly frowning and drawing a deep breath. 'In fact, the only one I expected to see is not here. Where is _your_ Nnoitra, Shinigami?'

Of all the group, it was only Ichigo that understood the reference.

'He sort of…strayed,' he answered, with a shrug.

'He got lost,' Byakuya clarified, immediately understanding what Stark meant.

'It's a one way corridor,' Grimmjow laughed from behind. 'Has one bloody entrance, one bloody exit…'

'Getting lost on one way corridors is one of captain Kenpachi's many amazing abilities,' Kuchiki answered, a mild twinge of innocent irony in his silky voice. Byakuya sheathed his sword, and took a step forward. 'I am Kuchiki Byakuya, captain of the 6th division,' he said. 'This,' he added, gracefully extending his arm in Isane's direction, 'is Kotetsu Isane, vice-captain of the 4th division, the healing division of the Gotei. I would ask, for the sake of your injured companion, that you advise her to submit to vice-captain Kotetsu's care…'

'No,' Stark growled, his sudden anger making the barrier that surrounded him and Ulquiorra visible for another fraction of a second.

'Reconsider,' Isane said, taking a step forward in her turn. 'Her injury is not only a slash, but a reiatsu burn, she…'

'Lilinette does not need any Shinigami skills,' the Segunda coldly interrupted. 'She will recover as she should, by consuming another Hollow's reiatsu. I guess introductions from my side are in order as well,' he continued, abruptly switching discourse, to show that his refusal was final. 'I am Stark, deemed second among the Espada. That, in case you did not know,' he added, slightly tilting his head to the back, to indicate the Sexta, 'is Grimmjow Jaguerjaques, standing sixth in the same hierarchy. As for the lady whom you probably knew as Nel, she is Neliel Tu. She stood third before random unfortunate events turned her into the adorable shape you found her in.'

Neliel smiled, waving at Isane.

'Hey, all,' she said, in a non-directional greeting.

'Playing the part of Lilinette's future midnight snack,' Stark continued, with narrowed eyes, 'is the Decima Espada, Yammy. And, of course,' he finally snarled, 'in the role of _my_ midnight snack, Cuarta Espada, Ulquiorra Schiffer.'

Ulquiorra did not even flinch at the threat.

'I thank you for your timely intervention, Shinigami,' Stark continued, speaking to Byakuya, 'but we can handle our business between ourselves from now on. Rest assured that by the end of this, you will have two less Espada to concern yourselves with. Those you're looking for are in fine health and moderately good company, where they will stay until we are ready to speak with you on proper terms. Now,' he snarled, 'if you feel like you must watch, do not interfere.'

Except for a fast exchange of glances, the Shinigami did not react. In exchange, taking a leap away from Ichigo's side, Neliel approached Stark with a deep frown.

'So you are really going through with this?' she asked, not knowing whether she was surprised or frightened. She had not had the time to absorb, let alone accept Stark's intentions. 'And you want to simply kill him?' she asked, gesturing towards Ulquiorra.

'It will not be simple,' Ulquiorra said, calmly. He glanced to her with narrowed eyes. 'I see your _accident _has taught you nothing, Neliel Tu.' The Cuarta added; though his voice had stayed on level, the irony in the words was obvious - even with his fate was at stake, he did not refrain from mocking what he perceived as her weakness - precisely because her merciful nature was her strength, Neliel chose to ignore him.

'How…' she furiously began, about to ask how the Segunda expected her to stand by and watch him kill a disarmed opponent; Grimmjow did not give her the time to finish.

'Decapitation seems in order,' he growled, and Stark nodded in swift approval.

'Wait a minute!' Ichigo exclaimed in his turn. 'What's this all about? Isn't he one of yours?'

'Ask your captain, Ichigo – I think he has guessed my intentions already.' Stark answered. Under Ichigo's searching gaze, Byakuya nodded sternly – his self assurance did nothing to calm Ichigo's nerves. 'As for Ulquiorra,' Stark continued, 'he is not _one of mine. _Never was one of mine, never will be one of mine,' the Segunda added, in a low growl. 'I am not akin to self loathing cowards, who would surrender their will and renounce their nature to advance a step within an alien and artificial system, in spite of the fact that it does not favor them in the least.'

'How did it feel, _Cuarta_?' he asked, shifting his attention to the green eyed Arrancar, and spitting the title out as if it had been a slug. 'How did it feel when, in the end, _I_ was still above you?'

'Aizen-sama promised you would not resist under his command for too long,' Ulquiorra dispassionately answered. 'As you are clearly demonstrating, he was absolutely right.'

'Of course. God is omniscient by definition.' Stark nodded, slowly taking his hands out of his pockets. 'Sadly, the same definition dictates that he is merciless, and for lack of a better agent, I shall act as his wrath, or rather…' Stark stopped and smiled. 'Or rather, his sloth – his pointed lack of interest in _you_, as in everyone all the rest of his insects, Ulquiorra.'

The words made the Cuarta cringe, not with fear, but with doubt. The expression did not shake Stark's resolve – to the contrary, he began feeling the sting of a familiar, deadly _ennui. _Ulquiorra did not expect Aizen to intervene in his favor, though he must have known, just as Stark knew, that Aizen was watching. That he would perhaps even regret the Cuarta's destruction – in spite of the fact that he had been created late, an ignoble twentieth, in spite of being only fourth strongest, Ulquiorra doubtlessly was the most loved of God's children. Maybe the only one of his children God truly loved; certainly the only one he trusted.

And that was why, Stark thought, measuring the Cuarta's pale and frozen features in open disdain, Ulquiorra did not expect Aizen to help; he would regard God's intervention as a mortal insult – the Cuarta expected to prove himself worthy of being loved, or die. The fact that his loyalty had always been intelligent and active, not simply contemplative surrender to Aizen's will did not make it less boring.

'Shall I end it by my blade, or yours?' Stark asked, softly. 'Or perhaps both, Ulquiorra?'

'I will not interfere. Yet, I must say that it is within the rules of engagement that you should offer an unarmed opponent surrender, second-among-the-Espada Stark,' Byakuya said, from the side. He exchanged a quick glance with Ichigo, bidding him to wait, and though the white tips of the young man's fingers on Zangetsu's blade betrayed the fact that the substitute Shinigami was more than ready to intervene, he obeyed and waited.

'He really is bonkers,' Grimmjow observed - again, Stark conceded with a nod.

'I find rules of engagement constricting, Kuchiki Byakuya, captain of the 6th division,' the Segunda answered, ironically imitating Kuchiki's extremely formal manner of address. 'Besides,' he added, his blue eyes sparkling dangerously, 'I do not believe in the institution of surrender – it generates stomach burns and insomnia for both the unsatisfied winner and the humiliated loser.'

'You have not changed at all, Stark. It fits that you should surface now, that I am disarmed, and Yammy is injured.' Ulquiorra said, narrowing his eyes; his clenched fist had started glowing menacingly. 'Did you wait outside the arch, while your Fracction did your work for you? I assume you did - you are still bravest when striking an already weakened enemy from behind.'

'It is what used to be referred to as tactical advantage,' the Segunda replied, with a small grin. 'Let's play.'

'Don't, Stark,' Neliel shouted, but he was too quick for any of those who stood outside the barrier to react; crossing his arms, Stark simultaneously drew Ulquiorra's katana and his own, slightly arched scimitar. Without lending any conscious thought to the movement, he spun his scimitar into a quick circle, a silent salute to the part of himself that had gone unused for too long, before bringing it to the ready and attacking. The blades descended towards Ulquiorra's neck at perfect angles, with Stark taking full advantage of his height – the Cuarta's palms rose in sequence, and he caught both blades inches before they touched his skin.

Ulquiorra grasped both weapons tightly, ignoring the deep wounds the pressure he applied dug into his palms, and released a Cero – the weakened, reddish light coursed through the steel, gaining strength as it travelled along the Cuarta's Zanpakutoh, just as it faded along the scimitar's edge. The Cero ripped into Stark's left hand and forearm; for a fraction of a second, when Stark leapt back, it looked as if the Segunda's flesh had been burned and blown away from the bone.

Though all others gasped, Stark laughed, causing an eerie, skeletal outline of his face to flicker about his true features – the laughter was full, a heavy, ominous sound that only Lilinette and Ishida had heard before; horribly damaged and exposed muscles and tendons twisted the Cuarta's sword between burned fingers, then placed the metal along his bare forearm. Stark raised his arm to the height of Ulquiorra's eyes, letting him see the green strands of reiatsu that snaked along the flesh, green fading to deep, dark purple, turning solid and repairing the Segunda's skin as soon as they touched it.

Ulquiorra winced in unexplainable pain; when the last scratch on his arm closed, Stark awkwardly twisted his neck and slightly licked his lower lip, as if he had been tasting the most exquisite of treats.

'Nice reiatsu. Minty and fresh,' he observed. 'Bad metallic aftertaste, though,' he added, his next attack not even letting Ulquiorra draw breath; the Cuarta parried the scimitar's blade with his forearm, which no longer seemed to be made of steel. The weapon slid into the flesh, cutting and burning at the same time – dark, writhing lines of reiatsu grasped at the Cuarta's arm, ascending to his shoulder and making it look as if his arm had been frozen in place. Ulquiorra twisted his forearm loose from the grappling lines of energy with oddly slowed gestures, then jumped back. Escape was impossible, however – the fangs of the barrier burning the silk of his uniform into his skin.

Realizing that while he was within Stark's enlarged Hierro, he stood no chance of proper movement, Ulquiorra ignored the pain and continued to press backwards, cringing with every minute step; he defended against his sword with his right, deflecting it upwards, but leaving his stomach open to Stark scimitar in the process. The Segunda did not miss the opportunity and though Uquiorra bent over, trying to put himself away from the weapon's reach, the fast defensive motion helped little – Stark's Hierro pressed him forward and into the blade's edge, as if he had bounced on rubber.

Ignoring the pain, the Cuarta grabbed Stark's collar and punched him in the chin, his fingers alight with the growing energy of a Grand Rey Cero – the explosion was slow in coming, though, and Stark kicked himself away, causing Ulquiorra to stumble helplessly backwards. The threat of the gathering Cero did not fade. Stark's long hair swayed - gently at first, but then, with the growing hurricane, the locks started whipping at his cheekbones in earnest. The air inside the barrier crackled and writhed, the tremendous impression of a brewing storm only accentuated by the odd, seemingly unnatural calm that lay outside it. Taking a step forward, Neliel frowned, understanding Ulquiorra's intended gamble. The Gran Rey Cero was the only powerful attack the Cuarta had left, and the only one that the limited range of movement truly allowed. To even stand a chance of fighting in earnest, Ulquiorra needed to get out of the barrier, and Stark would never allow him to, unless…

'If you fire a Gran Rey Cero inside my Hierro, you will die, Ulquiorra. Are you suicidal, perchance?' Stark observed, bringing his sword up defensively, and extending the Cuarta's blade to the side, slowly sliding the tip outside the barrier. Intuiting what Stark was thinking, Ulquiorra smirked.

'Not even you can conduct a Gran Rey Cero, Stark,' he observed.

'Shall we test that?' the Segunda asked, clenching his fingers on the hilt of his sword, and setting it alight with dark, cold flames. Though his voice had been fully confident and unwavering, the line of his lower jaw was cuttingly tense. 'Maybe I can, maybe I cannot – the only thing that is certain is that if you fire it, you will die.'

'No,' Ulquiorra laughed – actually laughed, Ichigo thought, cringing at the metallic sound of the Cuarta's chuckles. It felt as if he had not truly been laughing, merely caused his vocal chords to vibrate and imitate amusement. 'When I release it, we will both burn, and you know it. But…' he added, slowly, in a sotto voce that dripped with physical hatred, 'we won't. You will let me out of your Hierro before _you_ take any significant damage.'

'I know you all too well. You have,' Ulquiorra concluded, in a whisper, turning his head to pointedly glance at Lilinette, 'too much unfinished business in the world outside your Hierro to let me kill you, even if it means I will kill myself in the process. You will let me go. Rest assured, Stark,' he added, in a low, blood curling chuckle, that made the other frown, 'that I too still remember the meaning of _tactical advantage_.'

The Gran Rey Cero exploded just as Stark's eyes narrowed and he turned his blade flat; the light curved awkwardly against the dome of the barrier, causing Ichigo to instinctively and pointlessly lift his sword. Swallowing the tempest, Stark's Hierro became solid and opaque, breaking off the tip of Ulquiorra's blade. Aside for the soft clink of the metal against the stone, there had been no sound, no smell, the air heavy and charged and still, naught but silence that seemed to last hours. Lilinette painstakingly straightened and inched forward, looking terrified; Neliel looked at her, smiling with kind reassurance that Ichigo, who had first hand experience of Ulquiorra's strength thought vain.

The barrier gave, allowing the hurricane to burst out and sweep Lilinette and Yammy off their feet – even Byakuya, who had been moved unwisely close to the wall of fangs had been pushed back.

His face and exposed stomach reddened and blistered, Ulquiorra was projected out at lightning speed; the explosion had cauterized the gash in his stomach revealing the wound in all its horrifying depth and width. Nonetheless, despite the dark imprints that the fangs had impressed into his skin as Stark's Hierro contracted, the Cuarta was free and in control of his movements. He spun in flight, causing a new, deep and circular imprint to flourish in the terribly weakened wall as he changed direction, and headed back towards the snaking mass of the Cero that still lingered about the Segunda's barely discernible figure.

Nothing could have survived that, Ichigo thought, opening his eyes behind Zangetsu's wide blade, that protected his face from the impossibly powerful aftershock. The mere remnants of the Cero felt more powerful than whatever else Ulquiorra had fired at Ichigo, more enraged than what he had unleashed against Grimmjow. Nothing could have withstood it, not at that range…still, as the debris and dust of the explosion cleared, and the lashing strands of reiatsu writhed and waned away, the human gasped, his eyes wide in amazement.

It was not only that Stark still stood, though the explosion had all but cleared the flesh from his face and torso; it was not_ that_. It was the fact that Ulquiorra's eyes suddenly widened and the Cuarta doubled over in mid-flight, his straight body breaking like a dry, overly stretched twig. Inside the smaller, but solid protection of his barrier, Stark smiled, muscles and tendons stretching to reveal the white bone beneath for a second, a mere breath, before his burned features regained human shape and Ulquiorra's blade slowly, implacably began to dissolve. The metal of the sword was melting away as if submerged in acid; its edge rapidly rusted, then became jagged, pieces of it falling off but turning dark, drifting towards Stark's body and healing him.

'All right,' the Segunda chuckled, amusedly watching the Cuarta slip to his knees. 'You win, Ulquiorra – you're out. Now what?'

Unexpectedly, Stark yelped and jumped to the side; he'd lowered his Hierro just in time to let Lilinette's knee connect with his still injured shoulder.

'Ow, Lilinette,' he began to protest.

'You retard,' she hissed, trying to hit him again. She was injured and slow, however, so he caught her under his arm and immobilized her in a single, swift movement. Ulquiorra struggled to raise to his feet, to no avail – his sword, the better part of his body was still helplessly draining away as the Fracction buried her forehead into his enemy's shoulder. 'Don't fucking scare me like that! Retard,' the girl whimpered.

'I'm not pretty but I'm fine, come on,' he whispered in return, crossing his left arm over her shoulders. The nature of the Segunda's smile, even the overwhelming feel of his reiatsu had changed as soon as the little girl had come close, Ichigo noted. 'And, see?' Stark continued. 'Ulquiorra finally did away with the four day old shirt.'

'Good, otherwise you'd never change it,' she had chuckled.

Stark laughed, his wrist turning white from the strength with which he grasped Lilinette. The Fracction laughed faintly in her turn, though it had caused her obvious pain. 'Give me a moment,' the Segunda had added, into the girl's ear; raising her glance to meet his, Lilinette had softly nodded, allowing herself to slip out of his arms and stepping to the side. In the same fast, reflexive motion he'd used when he had first drawn the sword, he rotated his scimitar with fully reconstructed fingers.

In utter shock, Ichigo looked to Neliel's smiling features, finally coming to terms with her assurance.

_Nel knowth him_, the baby Arrancar had said.

She clearly did.

'_What_ is he?' Byakuya breathed, probably understanding the same, and thinking that only Neliel could hear him. The young woman turned to face him, but her response did not come fast enough; nor did Ichigo get time to enjoy the expression of amazement on Kuchiki's normally impassible features.

'Death,' Stark answered in Neliel's stead, as he hissed between the two Shinigami, his face and bare torso fully healed. He kicked Ulquiorra in the chin, making the Cuarta fly helplessly back, then redressed him with a single swift punch to the kidneys. Had Ulquiorra not desperately arched to the side, Stark's sword would have pierced his heart from behind; the weapon slipped beneath the Cuarta's collarbone. Stark had frowned, pushing his opponent off the blade with his clenched fist. He dashed upwards as Ulquiorra fell, letting the Cuarta's weakened frame slide along the ragged edge of his own sword.

Ulquiorra leaned on one knee, bringing his palm up for a hopelessly slow parry; it was not his bloodied fingers, but rather Zangetsu's blade to stop Stark's sword from clearly slashing the Cuarta's neck. Though Ichigo had thought himself ready, and correctly anticipated the Segunda's attack, nothing could have properly prepared him for the impact – he cringed desperately digging his heels into the floor, and bringing his second hand to cradle the blade's tip and hold it solid. The reiatsu that burst forth from the contact cut across his cheeks, leaving deep gashes; he narrowed his eyes but held firm, even trying to push forward only to find himself sinking into the stone that cracked under the soles of his sandals.

'Kurosaki…' Ulquiorra breathed, his voice barely audible from effort and surprise. Too concentrated on simply holding the Segunda at bay, Ichigo did not answer – he merely looked down, trying to offer Ulquiorra a reassuring smile, but only managing to grimace.

'What are you doing, kid?' Stark asked, more amused than surprised.

'Isn't it obvious? He is defeated, there is no need to push this forward.' Ichigo spat. 'I'm not going to let you kill him, not like this…'

'Please,' The Segunda sighed; he whipped his arm forward, blowing Ichigo away as if the boy had been as light as a leaf. 'I don't think I asked you for…'

'Getsuga Tenshou,' Ichigo shouted, in mid air – the dark half moon ripped through the chamber towards Stark, who stood carelessly in its way. His last remnants of consciousness prompting him to evade, Ulquiorra painstakingly rolled from the path of Ichigo's unleashed reiatsu; in turn, Stark yawned, lowering both blades. The rolling, dark waves hit him squarely in the chest, writhing across his skin without _truly_ touching it; then, with a monstrously deep breath, the Segunda took it all in, absorbing it completely though his half parted lips, widened nostrils, as well as through all the pores of his skin until there was no trace of it left.

'…permission,' Stark amusedly concluded. 'I'd burp at your bubbly reiatsu,' he shrugged, 'but there are ladies present, and Lilinette would kick me for being rude in polite company. What was that joke of an attack meant to prove?' he asked, arching an eyebrow.

'I won't let you kill him,' Ichigo stubbornly repeated; behind Stark, Grimmjow slapped his forehead.

'Kurosaki, old pal,' the Sexta articulated slowly and solemnly, 'you're really dumb. That's Ulquiorra you're defending. Ulquiorra. He stabbed you through your chest with his bare hands…Or do ya have as much attention span as a fucking goldfish?'

'Ya, maybe,' Ichigo grunted, slowly landing in front of Ulquiorra, who looked at him with eyes that expressed exactly what the Sexta had just pronounced. 'But, Grimmjow, I will not let this one at him more then I let Nnoitra at _you_. It is unfair.'

'Nellie, talk sense into him,' Stark sighed, his fingers impatiently twitching on the hilt of his sword. 'I'd rather not kill him, since the captain of the 6th, Kuchiki-something-or-other seems to grasp my generous intentions and you seem to like him so much.'

'No,' the young woman resolutely responded, and underlining her words with a swift wave of her arm. 'Ichigo is right. You consumed almost a quarter of Ulquiorra's reiatsu already – you've won and here is no need to kill…'

Stark frowned at her protest, but she did not have time to finish. She cringed, as did all others; crushed by unknown forces, the leaning, tortured tower exploded, not into torn rock but into tiny specks of dust, leaving the bare, indifferent darkness to stretch above. Over the deafening noise, insane, rolling and wildly loud cackles of laughter erupted, splitting the heavens and waking the demons of hell; ragged white silk and black cotton, flapping furiously like the gigantic wings of a pack of bats, obscured the moon as Zaraki Kenpachi fell from the sky, implacable as the scythe of death itself.

Byakuya drew to the side, but not far enough. Just like all others, he was knocked off his feet by Kenpachi's landing, which even blew the unfortunate remnants of the walls aside. Neliel and Isane jumped to the air; Ichigo followed, after securely gripping Ulquiorra's shoulder and dragging the Cuarta along. Hopelessly slow, Yammy was blown over the edge and vanished in the darkness. Grimmjow cursed, loudly and profusely, jamming Pantera into the stone and catching Lilinette's wrist to prevent her from being blown away, and, on the wide open platform that Zaraki Kenpachi's arrival had formed between heaven and sand, Stark stood alone.

'What the…' he breathed, furrowing his brow. This Shinigami's reiatsu was so strong that its pressure on Stark's Hierro made the Segunda's inner ears clog painfully.

'Y'all are taking too long!' Yachiru chimed, over the chaos. 'Ken-chan got bored!'

'Seriously, people,' Kenpachi grunted, his one eye rolling madly over the entire company. 'Stop getting in the way. Ichigo!' he menacingly shouted, waving his fist in the human's direction. 'Let the punk get on with _his_ killing, so I can get on with _my_ killing! You there, punk!' he grinned, waving his jagged sword from side to side and making Stark cringe at the fact that his ears had now been overtaken by a high, annoying vibration. 'You ain't got nowhere to run to this time!'

'Does he not comprehend that I don't want to fight him?' Stark asked, in honest amazement. 'Is he insane?'

'Quite,' Byakuya shrugged, getting up and dusting himself off with slow, dignified gestures. Not at all phased by his companion's words, Kenpachi laughed again, coming forward at bewildering speed.

'Go, Ken-chan!' Yachiru shrilled, rolling off her captain's shoulder – golden rays and waves of darkness exploded under the wide sky, as Kenpachi's sword mercilessly slammed into Stark's defenses. The Segunda cringed, taking a step back, just when Zaraki's smile grew wider.

'I watched you,' he hissed, between his teeth. 'You're fast. And you can counter _fast._'

Stark's eyes narrowed, with effort as well as displeasure.

'That's why,' Kenpachi continued, 'I didn't get through your shield the last time. Because you dance fast, Hollow.'

'I'd rather not dance at all,' Stark responded, frowning – darkness lashed out from his Hierro, but, for all of the Segunda's concentration, Kenpachi did not budge.

'But you can't dance _slow_,' he said, taking a small step back.

'Goddamn it,' Stark exclaimed; the tip of Kenpachi's sword slipped through his Hierro. The Shinigami had not pushed it forth rapidly. He had simply and methodically advanced, millimeter by millimeter. The blade, then – the wrist. Then, the shoulder.

And, Stark understood, as Kenpachi slowly breached his defenses, for as much as he wished to avoid the encounter, this battle was unavoidable. Not because the man before him, the Shinigami of the crazed wide grin and spiky hair, the monster with the tremendous reiatsu, was insane.

_No._

Kenpachi's battle lust, just like Stark's own rebellion, was driven by _ennui_; by the lack of a match, by the lack of a means of evolution, by a world that made no sense if one was anything less than God or anything more than a mere mortal. Kenpachi was neither, and the lukewarm world made no sense to him – just as it made no sense to the Segunda.

'You _can_ defeat me,' Stark whispered, bringing his swords to the ready and grinning. Allowing himself to feel alive.

'Dontcha give up before you have to,' Kenpachi laughed.

The jagged edge of the unsealed zanpakutoh buried into the scimitar's softly curved blade, setting the dead sky alight.

'Never.'

* * *

**Non-Bleach comment: **If you have not read Baudelaire's Fleurs de Mal, you don't know what you're missing. READ IT!

Up next - The day is saved!


	24. Dénouement

Two French titled chapters, though I am in Italy. Hm.

_Dénouement -_ resolution of the drama. I swear one more fighting chapter and I would begin to rival DragonBall :D

Thank you all for your kind words, everyone, your reviews make me get up happy :)

Chapter 24 - Where the day is saved by Bubbles, Blossom and Buttercup. Oh, I mean, the Brain.

* * *

If by any ridiculous oversight of nature anything in Hueco Mundo had not yet noticed what was happening in the tenth tower, Kuchiki thought, looking up at the sky, the entirety of this barren Universe must have become aware of the encounter now

If by any ridiculous oversight of nature anything in Hueco Mundo had not yet noticed what was happening in the tenth tower, Kuchiki thought, looking up at the sky, the entirety of this barren Universe must have become aware of the encounter now. The mere impact of the two blades crossing had sent cutting, circular gusts of dust and sand into the distance; under the light of the moon, and caught in the hurricane of Kenpachi's reiatsu, the particles made the air opaque and almost unbreathable.

Stark crossed both swords above his head to parry Kenpachi's downwards slash – sparks and scalding metal flew as the jagged edge of the Shinigami's sword bit into Ulquiorra's blade. The Segunda's arms trembled, and, for a moment he looked as if the parry would be defeated by the other's sheer strength. Stark frowned, not attempting to kick away from Kenpachi, but pushing him back with his briefly materialized Hierro. Though the barrier had indeed managed to come between the crossed swords, and finally reject the unsealed zanpakutoh, it had only pushed Kenpachi back a foot; in exchange, the force of the push had made Kuchiki jump back to avoid being blown away yet again.

Laughing, Kenpachi slashed from the side, not only brute strength, but remarkable control of his motion. His blade had slowed to almost stopping as it slid through Stark's barrier, only gaining momentum once it had been inside. The Espada vanished from its path, reappearing behind Kenpachi; the captain had not even turned, but merely brought his blade up on the back of his shoulders to catch the blow. He did, not even cringing at the impact that pushed him half a foot into the stone, making the remnants of the tower crack and tremble to their foundation.

'You're not a power type,' Kenpachi drawled, half looking over his shoulder.

'No,' Stark answered, briefly – the Cero erupted in the same instant as the word. Good instincts made the Espada withdraw just in time to let Kenpachi's sword hiss a few inches above his skin; though the Cero had hit him straight on, Kenpachi had not even flinched, only turning to attack once the light had passed over him, leaving him unscathed.

'But neither are you,' The Segunda breathed, in astonishment of the mere notion of a spirit type in such utter lack of control over his reiatsu. Kenpachi merely shrugged.

He started upwards with a deceivingly slow speed, then vanished in Shumpo; Stark brought his forearm, which was still shielded by Ulquiorra's sword up over his head. He parried, white fangs appearing beneath his feet to keep the blow from projecting him downwards, yet the thought had been ill-inspired. The tremendous force of the hit had pushed him to one knee as the edge of Kenpachi's blade had sunk half an inch into the Cuarta's sword. To the side, Ulquiorra had tensed, and his reiatsu had instinctively solidified, burning Ichigo's fingers as if the Cuarta had taken the blow himself.

Stark rose to his feet, darting up beneath Kenpachi's defenses; though he felt desperately slowed, as if he had been sliding through a viscous fluid rather than air, he slashed his sword diagonally across Kenpachi's chest. He had intended to stab, but the Shinigami's bare flesh was as hard as stone, causing the cut to be less than three inches deep. Frowning with the effort required to preserve his speed, Stark brought Ulquiorra's sword down, aiming it at Kenpachi's neck. The Shinigami had barely moved, allowing the Cuarta's torn zanpakutoh to slide into his shoulder.

'Ha! That's how I like it!' he howled as the blade lodged itself into his shoulder, sliding almost clearly through. Stark tried to pull back, his left arm extending helplessly – the blade was stuck in Kenpachi as if it had been thrust into solid rock. The thought of letting go of the sword which was hopelessly immobile occurred to Stark a fraction of a second too late; trapped by his own hesitation, he awkwardly crossed his right arm over his chest to protect his open left side from the Shinigami's blow. The jagged zanpakutoh recoiled from Stark's scimitar but quickly found its way across the Espada's elbow.

'Bloody hell,' Stark exclaimed, finding that he had to press his foot against Kenpachi's chest to pull Ulquiorra's blade clear – he brought his scimitar into a heavy horizontal slash, cutting just beneath the Shinigami's collarbones as he pushed himself away. Not even bothering to try and parry, Kenpachi allowed his sword to continue its downwards movement, its tip slashing over the lower part of Stark's stomach before the Espada drifted out of range. Dark lines of reiatsu rather than blood erupted from the wound, quickly reducing its depth but not sealing it shut, and Stark looked down in surprise. The cut in his arm was slow in closing too, and black blood had begun slipping over his forearm, rendering the hilt of his sword slippery and unmanageable.

'Don't keep dodging if you can take a cut, punk,' Kenpachi laughed, hurling himself forward, a tall trail of sand rising in the wake of his Shumpo. Stark did not hurry to bring up his Hierro, allowing the Shinigami to come dangerously close, yet the risky maneuver paid off – unable to slow down in time to slide past the Espada's barrier, Kenpachi bounced off the solidified fangs that suddenly solidified just a foot in front of Stark, and drifted twenty feet back. The furious impact caused a myriad of hair thin cracks to spread through the Hierro, and tiny pieces of bone broke off, scattering in the air; as if the fangs had rested directly on Stark's forearm, the Segunda's arm started bleeding profusely from a score of deep parallel cuts.

Rotating his hand to shake off the blood, Stark lifted Ulquiorra's sword and briefly looked at it. The katana had been reduced to three quarters of its original width, its blade broken and dull – he clenched his teeth and took a deep breath. Green lines of energy ran up his left arm and over his chest, darkening as they seeped into the gashing wounds on his sword arm. Ulquiorra cringed in the distance and tried, to no avail, to escape Ichigo's hold.

Stark frowned; he would not be able to feed on the Cuarta's sword for much longer – not if he intended to keep using it, and he desperately needed to, to keep up with the Shinigami's monstrous strength. He barely had time to exhale before he needed to cross his arms over his chest to block Kenpachi's next attack; this time, however, he had been ready. Trapping the Shinigami's Zanpakutoh between Ulquiorra's blade and his own, Stark brought his Hierro up around them both, effectively keeping the hulking captain in place.

'Huh?' Kenpachi laughed, meeting the Espada's narrowed eyes. 'You want to wrestle?'

'Not if it is avoidable,' Stark whispered; he needed to find another source of reiatsu to heal himself, and the Shinigami had it in abundance. Small, cutting particles of spirit energy, created by the Hollow's fierce concentration joined the dance of the dust and sand around the two. Kenpachi frowned as the splinters of reiatsu that he could barely acknowledge as his drifted closer and closer to Stark. For a moment, it looked as if the Segunda's brave attempt was going to be successful, yet, as the fragments danced ever closer and finally touched Stark's skin, they left minute scratches in their wake, as if they had been as many shards of broken glass. The Segunda looked up in utter surprise, only to find himself staring at a grin so wide it could have stretched from one corner of the world to the other.

'You crazy fool,' Kenpachi laughed, without spite. 'Ya think you can take control of my reiatsu, even if I can't?' The Espada looked up, blue eyes glistening as furiously as the steel of his scimitar.

'All right,' he conceded through clenched teeth, 'I cannot. I guess you are as impervious to subtle attacks as you are to logic.'

He crossed his swords down, forcing Kenpachi's arm down as well. Then, in the blink of an eye, he was gone.

The cut opened across Kenpachi's back as if by miracle; when he turned, he turned to impale his stomach on Ulquiorra's sword; this time, Stark let go of the hilt as soon as the weapon became lodged in the Shinigami's frame, and, as he flew upwards, he dragged another deep cut over Kenpachi's already scarred features, with a force that would have split the skull of any regular opponent. He easily deflected Kenpachi's sword to the side; instead of landing behind the Shinigami, Stark retreated a step and came to stand before him, fingers securely clasped on the hilt of the Cuarta's Zanpakutoh. His Hierro forced Kenpachi back a single foot – yet, it was all the space Stark needed to painstakingly slide the torn katana from the Shinigami's stomach.

He vanished again.

Kenpachi remained motionless, arms and shoulders relaxed.

'You didn't run this time,' he casually observed. 'I can't feel much reiatsu, but you're still here.'

Only the wind howled in response – a long, remote wail that carried an odd trace of humidity over the desert.

'I am not going anywhere, either,' Kenpachi carelessly continued. 'I've got plenty of time.'

Though he parried it, the force of the Segunda's next hit clearly blew Kenpachi downwards, off the foundations of the tenth tower and into the sand; over the coppery taste of blood, and the sensation of the viciously dry particles settling on his open wounds, Kenpachi felt little but cold fluid against his skin as Stark moved in to cut and out of the way of the Shinigami's attacks, his movements only betrayed by the odd consistency of his reiatsu. Kenpachi did not even have time to truly acknowledge the slashes – he merely felt as if he had been slowly wrapped in a wet shroud that grew ever thicker, more incapacitating by the second.

Laughing, the Shinigami propelled himself upwards, now meeting Stark's flurry of attacks blow for blow, the sparks of metal running like lightning across the clouds of dust – the Segunda parried with his left and attacked with his right, and though his enflamed scimitar did not find Kenpachi's flesh, its mere passage left bruises and burns in its wake.

'Let's end this,' Stark hissed, as Kenpachi's zanpakutoh slid over Ulquiorra's blade. His Hierro did not materialize before the Shinigami, but right on top of him, fangs tearing flesh off the bones and turning the Segunda's uniform crimson. Taking advantage of his opponent's surprise, Stark blinked away, materializing so close to Kenpachi's back that he felt the silk of the captain's cloak brush delicately against his skin.

He closed his eyes, rotating his scimitar into position then took a step back.

Stark's pierced out in the front of Kenpachi's chest, at the same time as the tip of Kenpachi's Zanpakutoh cut through Stark's spine and sternum, both blades dripping with blood.

The Segunda looked up at Lilinette; in the pale, wounded silence of the world, she thought she saw him smile.

'Gran Rey Cero,' Stark whispered wrapping his fingers on the tip of Kenpachi's sword, and darkness spread over the sky, embracing both Shinigami and Hollow.

Only Stark walked out of the writhing mass of energy that lingered in the air for long seconds – unlike the other Gran Rey Cero so far, the Segunda's did not spread out in a cone, but rather wrapped itself around the target, wide, overlapping ribbons twisting against each as they coiled around the Shinigami. Stark did not even look over his shoulder when Kenpachi fell, the aftermath of the Cero still hiding him completely.

'Impossible!' Ichigo breathed, almost letting go of Ulquiorra in surprise, as Stark sheathed his sword and landed on the edge of the tower's foundation. He looked down at Lilinette and winked, scratching lightly on the top of her mask, only cringing with obvious pain and weakness when he had turned his face to the side and slowly started for Byakuya. The wound in the Espada's chest was small, almost _neat _– not the sort of stab wound that one would normally associate with Kenpachi . 'He stabbed you through the heart…'

'I think I may be missing that particular organ.' Stark shrugged, looking to Ichigo over Byakuya's shoulder. His hand instinctively drifted over his Hollow hole, before coming to rest over the cut that lay just below it. 'May I have Ulquiorra back without having to fight anyone else over him, please?' the Segunda ironically inquired, towards the captain of the 6th. 'I'd like to get rid of him before bedtime, so I can have some peaceful dreams for a change.'

'No way!' Ichigo shouted, making Stark arch an impatient eyebrow.

'You're still answering questions that are not directed at you, kid,' he said.

Kuchiki measured the Espada for long seconds, his eyes lingering on the regularly pulsing reiatsu beneath his fingers, which looked more as if it had been escaping from the wound than going inside it.

'You are quite wounded, Second among the Espada,' Byakuya remarked flatly.

'I think I'll refuse your healing services,' Stark answered, with a smirk. 'I would like to collect my bandages and be on my way,' he added, looking at Ulquiorra with a cruel grin. Again, the Cuarta struggled against Ichigo's arm – not to get away, Ichigo noted, shaking his head, but to get _at _Stark. 'As you should be on your way, Captain Kuchiki. Unless you would like to finish what your insane companion started – yet, I think that would be a rather ill omen for our non-aggression pact.'

'It would,' Byakuya assented, with a small nod. His dark eyes almost gathered warmth as he spoke the next words.

'You did not kill captain Kenpachi.' Kuchiki said, softly.

'No,' the Stark answered. 'I did not want to, and though my intentions turned slightly more confrontational half way through, I do not think I can kill him. I do not think anyone can.'

'It is good…' Byakuya responded, lowering his forehead, with a gesture that made Stark's blood curl, 'that you have understood that. It does, however, not make leaving him alive any less of a terrible mistake.'

'Ken-chan!' Yachiru exclaimed, pointing behind the Segunda in obvious glee.

'Eh, fuck.' Stark pronounced, turning around; the curse had not even been angry – it had merely been an expression of overwhelming surprise.

His captain's cloak torn clear of his scarred, broad chest, his wounds closed or closing and his sword covered in black, caked blood, Kenpachi floated over the sands. He shook his head, making the few bells that still remained on the tips of his spiky hair rattle, then looked up at Stark and grinned.

'Nice one,' he admitted, spitting to the side. 'Never really saw anyone who heals as fast as me,' he shrugged, with childish delight. 'That's very handy; means I can cut at you for _real _for a long time.'

'He is not fully healed, Captain Kenpachi,' Byakuya remarked.

'He's healed enough!' Kenpachi laughed. 'And if he isn't, he sure is strong enough!'

The Captain of the 11th lowered his forehead, slipping the tip of his sword beneath his eyepatch; Yachiru giggled, and Stark looked at her in utter amazement – he did not have time to once again turn to Kenpachi. The eyepatch fell to the side, and the overwhelming reiatsu made the Segunda instantly cringe and press his palm to his temple, as if trying to keep his brain in place. White, scalding rays made the black, oppressive mass that surrounded Stark visible, then scattered it utterly, pushing the Espada to his knees and sending out a shockwave so intense that the tall crimson towers in the distance shook.

'Better be ready!' Kenpachi shouted – the sound came to Stark as thunder resonating inside his skull; had Grimmjow not briefly crossed the Shinigami's path, the Segunda would not have even registered the blow. The Sexta's attack achieved nothing – he was brushed aside with ease, and Stark's hyper acute sense of hearing perceived Pantera's pained hiss as the Shinigami's sword dented her edge. Yet, though his sword had been damaged, Grimmjow had bought Stark enough time to stand and parry clumsily.

It was not, the Segunda dully thought, that the Shinigami was faster; he wasn't. It was just that he had so much reiatsu, _too much_ reiatsu, that dowsed everything around it – Stark's sword, his Hierro, his mind – so much reiatsu that it was even painful to stand in his presence. What made it intolerable, different from Aizen's, was not the quantity, but the complete, unexplainable fury, the madness and lack of control – how could one defend against a reiatsu that was not even truly attacking? Each particle in itself was poisonous, unfocused, irrepressible. Indefensible – too much.

_Or it is not that he has too much._

Ulquiorra's sword blocked Kenpachi's blow and broke in half, the jagged blade slicing thought it as if it had been scalding hot; it did not truly matter that Stark's scimitar had found its way into the Shinigami's chest. The wound had closed even before Stark had managed to painstakingly pull it loose; the Segunda had felt no pain, only terrible, devastating heat when the Shinigami's blade had lodged itself in his stomach.

Stark pressed his foot into the Shinigami's chest, pushing himself off the blade and feeling every inch, every tooth and ridge of the broken edge as it slipped clear. With a last, desperate flex of his confused reiatsu, he managed to solidify his Hierro, yet only at half strength – Kenpachi cut clearly through, shattering bone to dust, and the impact of the blow sent Stark flying into the stone below.

_It is not that he has too much. It is just that I have too little._

His scimitar straight across his right forearm, Stark managed a last, hopeless parry before Kenpachi's knee crushed his stomach, making him bite his lower lip in a desperate attempt at not spitting blood.

_I guess I learned what I was seeking to learn. I can't take Aizen, _the Segunda dully thought.

_Not yet._

'Didn't think it would be this easy,' Kenpachi regretfully said, pressing his sword over Stark's own, and causing the scimitar to emit small, panicked gushes of darkness. He frowned lightly when the Segunda stabbed the broken stub of Ulquiorra's katana between his ribs. 'That don't work,' he remarked, leaning his entire wheight in, and making Stark wince.

A white crackle of energy flew above them both, severing the tip of one of Kenpachi's spiky braids. The bell's clink as it rolled onto the floor was almost painful in itself.

'Eh?' Kenpachi said, lifting himself to turn around. His wheight chokingly pressed Stark's forearm over his own throat.

A second white crackle of energy ran down the captain's arm, causing it to jolt uncontrollably to the side. Not truly hurt, but now seriously annoyed at the interruption, Kenpachi turned around in full.

'Ey,' he said, in utter boredom. 'The guy who ain't here.'

Szayel Aporro pressed his glasses up on his nose, then softly slipped his fingers through his pink tresses.

Byakuya frowned, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword – Kenpachi's reiatsu was so deafening, that he had not felt the other Espada approaching; none of them had. Even the other Arrancar looked surprised. What was even more concerning was the fact that the other captain's energy did not allow Kuchiki to even grasp the dimensions of the newcomer's strength – he vaguely remembered him describing himself as the eighth, which should have made him considerably weaker than Stark. Under the circumstances, Byakuya thought, with a mild frown, the fact that the Espada so carelessly provoked Kenpachi was a sign of pure folly.

'I guess it would be too difficult to ask you to remember a name,' Szayel Aporro sighed, in deep, theatrical pain. 'In addition,' the Octava sweetly added, 'that definition no longer fits since this time, I _am _here.'

Finding that further conversation was pointless, he whipped Fornicares forward; the sparkling edge of the blade split the air, sending the echoes of its light against Kenpachi's chest and neck. The mild distraction was all Stark needed to painfully kick the Shinigami in the groin, then roll to the side and drag himself to his feet as Kenpachi instinctively pulled back.

'That was low,' Kenpachi growled, straightening in his turn.

'Then, it was typical of Stark,' Szayel mused.

Stark's world still stubbornly refused to clarify, all sounds and contours blurred by the other's presence. When Szayel Aporro landed between himself and Kenpachi, and angled Fornicares to a guard position, the Segunda thought he had begun to hallucinate.

'What are you doing, Szayel Aporro?' he asked, eyes narrowed in confusion; as if Szayel's stance had not been sufficiently amazing, Stark noticed that the Octava held his sword in his right hand.

'What does it look like I am doing, Stark?' Szayel purred, not taking his eyes off Kenpachi. 'Returning the favor.' The Segunda cringed.

'You're cute,' Yachiru giggled, tugging on the longer side of Szayel's shirt and making him look down in dismay. 'But Ken-chan can't play with you now. He's playing with somebody else. Maybe he can play with you later? Though,' she wisely added, with a little frown, 'you don't look like Ken-chan can have fun with you…'

'I am afraid Ken-chan will have to indulge me for a few minutes,' Szayel muttered. 'Go away before I zap you into oblivion, pest!' he snapped at Yachiru. The little girl's lower lip trembled, then pushed forward, threatening tears.

'Ken-chan,' she whined, 'he called me a pest!'

'You shouldn't call Yachiru a pest,' Kenpachi frowned. 'That's just rude.'

'Would you rather I called her a fungus? A bacterium? A virus?' Szayel continued, immediately catching the irritation in the Shinigami's voice, and gracefully advancing towards Kenpachi, Fornicares extended to his side.

'Szayel Aporro, you cannot take him,' Stark muttered, between pained gasps of breath; he noticed Kenpachi's features growing ever darker with each word the Octava spoke. The Shinigami's reiatsu became more acutely painful, more dense. 'You are irking him out of control, Perfect Being – and he was already out of control…' the Segunda hissed. 'Damn it, Szayel, you'll die like the arrogant git you are and leave me to handle this mess of reiatsu…can't you hear it?'

'I'm afraid not,' Szayel smiled, casually lifting the soft pink hair that covered his right ear, to reveal a small, white and oddly elaborated earplug that crawled upwards over his skull and down the back of his neck. 'I assumed that his reiatsu would be overwhelming from a close range, and your obvious lack of concentration power is proving me right. Unlike you, oh great one, I came prepared. Is he getting angry?'

'Mildly,' Stark sighed. 'He's clearly not very excited at the interruption and then, you are insulting his, eh, Fracction, I would assume.'

'_Good_,' the Octava purred. 'I like an angry loser. Takes all the potential for amusement out of it if they are not angry, really.' He added, with a light hearted chuckle. 'Trust me,' Szayel whispered, no longer smiling, and, as the Octava drifted forth to meet Kenpachi's stride, Stark thought that trusting Szayel was the last thing in the world he wanted to do.

Szayel was not strong, but he was remarkably fast on his feet; the Shinigami's bored and lazy swipes hissed by his lithe body left and right, without once touching him. When Kenpachi slowly moved forth, Szayel simply drifted over his head, landing behind him. The Octava jumped just in time to let Kenpachi's vicious horizontal swipe split the air beneath his feet, yet, though he had clearly caught the Shinigami unprepared, Fornicares' tip stopped abruptly five inches from Kenpachi's skin, and the Octava was projected back as if he had hit a solid wall.

'Why are you using your right hand?' Stark snarled in annoyance, as Szayel dropped to one knee beside him. 'You are so clumsy you could not even slice an orange…'

'Precisely. I need the exercise,' the Octava hissed in response; his next attack was not more successful than the previous, and he was yet again effortlessly pushed back.

'Told you Ken-chan can have no fun with you, Pinky-san,' Yachiru shrugged.

'You know, Perfect Being,' the Segunda began, slowly, 'I'd find your suicidal drive a lot more touching if I didn't know you left a little piece of yourself back in the lab, with the pretty gigai…'

'Hee,' Szayel grinned, acknowledging the truth in the other's words. 'I am not giving it much thought, however. Why would I let a little thing like not being killable spoil my heroic unexplainable self-sacrifice scene? Get ready,' Szayel whispered to Stark, making the Segunda frown deeply. Instead of jumping forward, Szayel rose from his knee and dusted his uniform off, in a slow, dignified motion.

'You are truly terrifying,' he said, taking a small, courteous bow in Kenpachi's direction. 'You are the first Shinigami I encounter that does justice to the name…'

Kenpachi smirked incredulously. In the next blink of an eye, the pink-haired Arrancar was within inches of him, his sword hissing by Kenpachi's ear.

'Ow!' Szayel shrieked, no longer dodging and clumsily parrying a blow from the left; 'Ow!' he then exclaimed, awkwardly twisting his arm outwards to parry a blow from the right. 'Lightly, please…' he whimpered, catching a blow from above. 'The difference in out weights is overwhelming and I truly cannot…ow!' he shrieked again, making Kenpachi frown in dismay.

'You're annoyingly weak and terribly loud,' The Shinigami snarled, pushing all of his tremendous body and reiatsu forward; he had seen all that he cared to see of the mewling little one – there was no point in dragging it on. As if the Octava's movement had been in slow motion, Kenpachi saw Fornicares' tip straightening. Not even grinning, for this victory would give him no satisfaction, the captain of the 11th aligned his Zanpakutoh to parry.

Yet, instead of striking with his sword, Szayel Aporro shifted his wheight at the very last second; breathtakingly fast, and surprisingly dexterous, his left arm came up from the side, carrying a sleek, glinting object. Kenpachi felt little else than a sting when the Steele Schneider's flickering blade was buried into his shoulder.

He slapped Szayel's right arm away casually, and, with his left hand, grabbed the Espada by the collar of his shirt; unable to resist the motion, Szayel Aporro was swiped off his feet, the blade of the Quincy's weapon sliding harmlessly loose of Kenpachi's shoulder. Effortlessly lifting the Arrancar – who seemed to weigh less than a feather – off the ground, Kenpachi pulled him up and held him at an arm's length, looking at him in utter amazement of the fact that a thing so small could make so much noise.

'Please, not the face! Not the face!' Szayel shrieked again, this time in honest horror, defensively raising his hands as the Shinigami tensed his right fist by his side, preparing to punch. 'Anywhere else but the face!' he pleaded, closing his eyes.

His words fell on deaf ears; Kenpachi's clenched fist dryly connected with Szayel's features, crunching his nose flat and sending him flying several feet back through the air. Stark caught him by the collar, redressing him.

'Fucker! It is _just_ as I anticipated!' Szayel grumbled, his words muffled by the gloved hand he extended over his face. 'And I bloody anticipated it's going to hurt!'

'Huh?' Kenpachi asked, shaking his head, and concentrating all the confusion of the ages in a single syllable.

'All right,' Szayel conceded out loud, gracefully extending his left arm to the side. 'I cannot do anything to you, and I cannot possibly fight with less than perfect features; I give up. He is all yours,' he added, gesturing towards Stark, who looked back at him not in anger, but now in open curiosity. 'I shall get out of the way and let you get on with your regularly scheduled slaughter.'

'Follow me,' he hissed, vanishing so fast that Stark thought the words were just a figment of his tortured imagination. The Segunda did not even have time to frown – he cursed, as Kenpachi pushed him a foot into the floor. Even the little time Szayel had bought him had been put to good use; but, though whatever remained of Ulquiorra's sword had shrunk by another few inches, every attempt at concentrating his reiatsu was foiled by the maddening noise around him. Oddly, Stark did not even regret not releasing his sword in the beginning, when the Shinigami's eyepatch was still on and he still stood a chance at gathering his own reiatsu – judging by the sheer amount of energy Kenpachi had, not even the release would have helped much. The captain of the 11th had sufficient reiatsu to recover permanently.

'Follow!' Szayel commanded, drifting past again, his hand still over his face. In a painful haze, the Segunda found no recourse but to obey. In truth, Stark thought, as he desperately fought off Kenpachi's wild blows, slowly approaching the place where Szayel now stood, impatiently and rhythmically tapping his foot, it did not truly matter. He landed beside Szayel Aporro; the breath he wasted to questioningly look up at the Octava was enough to allow Kenpachi to cut his stomach open again – Stark winced and stumbled back. Oblivious to the other's injury, and to the fact that the Segunda was now bleeding seriously, Szayel frowned, his eyes narrowing behind his lenses and his mind obviously concentrated on something else.

'A foot further to the left, please,' he muttered, through the stained fingers of his gloved hand. 'Would you kindly…' he snapped in dismay, reckoning Stark was taking too long.

'Szayel Aporro,' Stark grunted in return, nonetheless taking a step back and to the right, forcing the Shinigami to circle towards the left, 'I swear that the last thing I do before he kills me is shove Fornicares down your throat, hilt first…'

'Promises, promises,' Szayel sensuously purred.

Kenpachi stepped to the left; with his step, equations were solved and coefficients were balanced - and the world fell into neat, precise, order once more.

Five blinding blue rays of energy darted at the Shinigami from five precisely distanced points, instantly crawling up to his waist and locking him at the center of the pentagon; surprised, and not knowing what to expect, Stark darted upwards. In his turn, though his hair was whipping furiously out of place, Szayel stayed precisely where he was, mere inches out of the broken zanpakutoh's range. Kenpachi growled, furiously trying to move forward, yet the impossibly strong shackles that snaked around him implacably kept his legs still.

'That's…' Ichigo breathed, inching forward, and immediately recognizing the reiatsu that poured out of the star's corners. 'That's Ishida's…'

'Quite so,' Szayel agreed, with obvious delight. 'It is Ishida Uryu's reiatsu. I am pleased you are able to recognize it.'

He turned his back on Kenpachi and began to advance towards the edge of the pentagon, his fingers casually caressing one of the rays of energy. He winced at the cold contact, but, even though the Quincy's reiatsu was still alien and indigestible, it was enough to restore his features.

One could not achieve victory with a broken nose, after all. It would be…_imperfect._

'What are you doing to Ishida?' Ichigo shouted, darting to his feet and letting go of Ulquiorra, who was too weak to attempt to move.

'Nothing. He has nothing to do with this, other than providing the props.' Szayel frowned. 'The Steele Schneider…or rather, Seelenschnider, as people with _actual _knowledge of the German language might call them, are designed to channel environmental energy and transform them into his reiatsu. I did not bother to modify them to transform it to my own – I was slightly pressed for time. Do you not even know how your companion's weapons function? Nevermind,' he sighed, at the human's dull glance. 'Of course you do not. Heh.'

He took a small silvery vial out of his pocket, deftly spinning it between the fingers of his left hand.

'And now, gentlemen, ladies,' Szayel triumphantly said, turning towards Kenpachi 'and…pest' he added, frowning in Yachiru's direction, 'the _dénouement_.'

Szayel turned around, holding the vial out.

'The Sprenger won't kill him; he'll recover immediately.' Stark matter-of-factly said, landing just outside the perimeter. 'And, once you trigger it, he will be free again.'

'That is very factually correct, but this is not an actual Sprenger,' Szayel answered, smiling permissively. 'Get ready to jump.'

The Octava tilted the vial over, allowing to drops of the liquid it held to slip over the edge and down onto one of the hilts – he'd been in the air long before the liquid and the metal had actually made contact. In confusion, Stark had tarried for a second, then, as a vast, cutting plane of reiatsu spread _outwards, _draining violently away from Kenpachi and completely bathing the round foundation of the tower in blue energy, he understood. Stark took to the air. He'd barely had time to retrieve Lilinette and hoist her up, almost knocking Grimmjow over in the process.

Confused, but fast, Neliel had followed them – she had been slightly slow, however, and the furious outward pour of energy had caused her to lose her balance. Szayel Aporro appeared behind her, touching her shoulders with two fingers just briefly enough to make sure that she would not be projected over the edge. He'd vanished before she had had time to look, and she floated safely towards the rest of the Arrancar.

Yachiru safely under her arm, Isane jumped in her turn, stopping by Byakuya's side; finally showing wisdom in understanding that he could not truly get himself as well as Ulquiorra away in time, Ichigo let go of the Cuarta, and darted up in his turn. Briefly, Ulquiorra's delicate frame cut a slice of darkness into the shimmering blanket of reiatsu; he tried to get to his feet but was mercilessly swept over, disappearing beneath the surface. For the next few moments, only Kenpachi's figure stood at the center of the radiant sea.

* * *

Up next - a nice chat.

And, **no,** Ulquiorra is not dead. Yet.


	25. Bridges

Aah, a relaxing chapter. After all the pain and suffering, a light relaxed chat among friends.

--Updated with more friendly banter that giveth Neliel Tu the opportunity of being smart, as per Savrik's observation, and clarifying the Espadas' predicament, as per Maidros' observation. Thank you guys, you're priceless :) --

Chapter 25 - Where Szayel Aporro and Grimmjow agree with each other. A clear sign of the Apocalypse, if you ask me.

* * *

It had taken long minutes for the Quincy's swords to finally drain the better part of Kenpachi's reiatsu; for the first few, Byakuya had watched the process through narrowed eyes, ready to intervene at any point when the other captain might have dropped beneath a safe level. Yet, judging by the fact that Kenpachi had not stopped cursing in a booming voice, and by the fact that Yachiru had not stopped giggling every time that he did, the captain of the 6th judged that Kenpachi was safe enough, and in no significant amount of pain.

When the shimmering blue curtain finally faded, leaving a transparent, slightly writhing and liquid looking mass in its wake, the captain of the 6th thought it safe to come back down to the platform. The rest of his group remained in the air; Ichigo had not sheathed Zangetsu, and did not take his eyes off Stark.

Kenpachi's reiatsu had not been fully subdued. It probably could not be – faint gusts of it, that made it feel as if Kuchiki had been standing knee-high in a lukewarm river, still continued to flow outwards. The explosion had taken away whatever was accumulated around him; what the Quincy's weapons scattered now was the mere regenerative current of it, which was still strong enough to give a physical sensation.

'…impressed,' Lilinette winced against Stark's shoulder.

'Alright,' Stark sighed, in response. 'The things you make me do, Lilinette, honestly…'

Though she was growing weaker by the minute, the Fracction looked up and scowled menacingly. Guessing that little else would satisfy her, the Segunda solemnly turned towards Szayel.

'Szayel Aporro,' he ceremoniously said, carefully pronouncing each syllable, 'I am impressed. Mildly disgusted, as usual, but in overall, impressed.'

'Yeah, dude, that was like, wow!' Grimmjow exclaimed in turn, seeing it fit to give Szayel a congratulatory slap across the shoulders that caused the Octava to slide ten feet forward through the air.

'I see getting kicked in the skull has not increased your eloquence, Sexta.' Szayel Aporro snapped, over his shoulder.

'Nah,' Grimmjow shrugged amusedly, allowing himself to drift downwards. '…skull's thick enough to prevent me from growin' an advanced vocabulary tumor.'

Ichigo only realized his oversight in staying behind when Grimmjow landed besides Ulquiorra, and flipped the Cuarta over with the tip of his sandal. The Quincy's reiatsu had left a deep, straight cut across Ulquiorra's chest, at the level of his Hollow hole; the raw flesh under the pale skin was of a pale, disgusting pink.

The human boy rushed downwards, but his haste came far too late. Stark and Szayel had already landed around the Cuarta's frail body, effectively claiming him as their own – still looking undecided, Neliel had placed herself in a neutral position between the two camps. Yet, though her still obvious neutrality was somewhat reassuring, the absence of Kenpachi's deafening energy rendered Stark's reiatsu overwhelmingly present, making Ichigo feel as if he had been breathing in the approach of a blizzard. Ichigo inched forward, but Byakuya promptly stepped in his way, blocking his path.

'Byakuya…'Ichigo began to protest, his words cut out by the other Shinigami's dark leer.

'How many times must I repeat myself, Kurosaki Ichigo,' Kuchiki snapped. 'We are not on familiar terms. If you absolutely must address me, you _will _address me as Captain Kuchiki…'

'Ya, Captain Kuchiki, Bya-kun,' Yachiru chimed, 'but they're gonna eat Crying-Cute-Whitey-san by the time we finish calling you Captain Kuchiki, Bya-kun.'

'Life is hard when you're surrounded by idiots, ain't it, dude?' Grimmjow offered his commiserations to Byakuya's horrified grimace.

'_You_, in particular, would have no idea,' Szayel sighed. He kneeled by Ulquiorra's side, taking the Cuarta's pulse with quick, practiced fingers.

'He is not dead,' Isane said simply; the Octava looked up in surprise, then nodded. The woman Shinigami's reiatsu sensing abilities must have been tremendous, he thought. Ulquiorra's energy was barely more than a trickle, and though his hand was in direct contact with the Cuarta's dead skin, Szayel himself could not feel it over Stark's. He could, however feel the flutters of a faint, irregular pulse.

Ulquiorra's eyelids trembled, and it took momentous effort for him to drag his eyes open. He tried to focus, but his eyes slipped closed once more. With impassible gestures, the Octava straightened, not looking at either of his two companions, nor noticing Ichigo's frown and questioning leer. He ran his fingers though his hair, looking up and addressing the sky.

'Lumina,' he called.

His earplug hissed painfully, and he shrieked, jumping to the side as if the sound had physically assaulted him. With desperate speed, he pulled the earplug out of his ear, holding it a foot away – and indeed, the sound burst out of the receptor, loudly enough for all to hear it.

'…ro-sama, that was brilliant! We are reading low and steady from Captain-class Shinigami presence number three!' The Fracction's ecstatic voice chanted.

'I think you have just ruptured my eardrum,' Szayel menacingly muttered.

There was a shriek, then a crackle.

'Uhm. Lumina says she is very sorry…' Verona's voice shyly hissed through.

'Ulquiorra is still alive. One of you get over here with the device,' he snapped into the receptor, then brutally shoved it in his pocket, where it continued to crackle loudly.

'Will captain Kenpachi recover?' Kuchiki asked, in a low, measured tone.

Szayel stepped forward, adjusting his glasses.

'He is unhurt.' The Octava responded.

'Yuh,' Kenpachi confirmed, flexing pointlessly against the lines of energy that still kept him prisoner. 'Just can't move much,' he grinned. 'Weak and whiny, but smart. Reminds me of the Kurosutchi devil…'

Szayel Aporro cringed at the comparison.

'Your actions are surprising, Arrancar,' Byakuya continued, on the same flat tone. 'Captain Zaraki Kenpachi's reiatsu has never been subdued before…'

'Oh fuck, don't get him started…'Grimmjow whimpered, shielding his eyes with his palm. It was, however, too late – Szayel grinned wide, with climactic satisfaction.

'There we go with the intellectual masturbation again,' Stark sighed, clasping Lilinette closer. Isane frowned; barely visible, but painfully obvious to her reiatsu reading senses, dark lines of energy had started flowing from the man to the young girl that tightly clung to him. The seemingly endless exodus of Lilinette's reiatsu, which had, for a few moments, tethered on the brink of extinction, had stopped. Quite on the contrary, it seemed to be growing, as if the young girl's body had had the ability of weaving darkness into burning light. But then, Isane thought, the two patterns of energy were not different in nature, only in manifestation. She exchanged a glance with Byakuya, who had nodded silently, guessing her thoughts.

'The Quincy Zeichen places five of the Seelenschneider into a pattern that traps an enemy's reiatsu,' The Octava purred. 'Then, for a normal Sprenger, the contained energy is released into an explosion. Given my simple, yet masterful modification to the Zeichen pattern – I merely reversed the channeling direction, by placing them with the conductive cylinder outwards - they do not concentrate the reiatsu into an explosion, but rather drain it endlessly, rendering him harmless for as long as he is inside the pentagon. As per Stark's instructions, which came quite close to being Stark's glorious _last_ words,' Szayel Aporro said, with obvious and malicious satisfaction, 'I did not kill him.'

'You can't kill Ken-chan,' Yachiru shrugged.

'I would normally take that as a challenge, pest,' Szayel hissed, then adjusted his glasses. 'Now,' he said, 'with at least some of the idiots out of the way, the rest of us may actually have an intelligent conversation.'

'I would assume that you have had found out what you were seeking to learn. You've had sufficient proof of our strength, Kuchiki Byakuya,' Stark said, softly, letting Lilinette stand. 'As well as sufficient proof of our good will.'

'About time you brats gave us some proof of good will,' Grimmjow completed. 'You've caused sufficient trouble and noise already.'

Byakuya lifted his chin, but remained silent for a few seconds, exchanging a long glance with Isane, then, with Kenpachi.

'Aizen can't not have heard that,' the captain of the 11th awkwardly shrugged, answering a not yet stated question. 'Was as loud as I ever got.'

'…but if he has,' Isane breathed, 'what is he doing? Will he not move at all? What is Aizen waiting for?'

'Prolly waiting for y'all to finish Stark off, as for the original script.' Grimmjow drawled, cracking his shoulder and sheathing Pantera. He looked to Stark, raising an eyebrow to prompt him into doing the same; the Segunda took no notice. 'If you were stupid enough to press this on and actually achieved that, losing Ulquiorra would be a fair price.'

As if returned to life by the mention of Aizen's name, Ulquiorra cringed, and painstakingly rolled to the side, leaning on his elbow; the Sexta looked over his shoulder, watching his former companion's efforts with open amusement.

'Ya look pale, Ulquiorra,' he mocked. 'And a bit dusty.'

Oblivious to it all, the Cuarta stubbornly raised himself to one knee, his arm bent over his injury, and, watching him struggle, Ichigo could bring himself to remember none of the rage that had driven him so far. As if all the punishment Ulquiorra had taken had been enough to erase the memory of all previous interactions, he simply could not see the kidnapper of Inoue Orihime in the frail, wounded Arrancar. It was all unfair, he thought, glancing at Stark's pointy and indifferent features, and somehow reading the attentive tension that lied beyond the drowsy glance – from the beginning, this had not been a battle, but a slow execution that the Second Espada had no intention of interrupting.

'I don't think trusting this guy is a good idea, Byakuya…eh, Captain Kuchiki,' he quickly corrected, to Byakuya's furious glance.

'Trusting me is better than fighting me, kid,' Stark lazily responded.

'But only slightly less dangerous,' Szayel off-handedly snickered.

'You're a fine one to speak on the subject of trust, Szayel Aporro,' Neliel cuttingly intervened. The Octava bit his lip, but produced no response. With a dark eye, which clearly showed it had lost an argument with Verona and had had to come out on its own, Lumina shyly peeked over the edge of the platform. It looked about, then quickly disappeared from sight only to peek in again, obviously not knowing if it was safe for it to come out. After giving his Fracction a murderous stare, Szayel had gracefully waved his fingers, prompting it to bounce forward and hastily present him with the package it carried under its arm. Lumina then wisely hid behind her Espada, only leaning to the side from time to time and hiding away with small, frightened whimpers every time that the Shinigami looked its way.

'Listen, guys, Ichigo,' Neliel began, gesturing wide towards the Shinigami, 'we might have gotten off on the wrong foot here…'

'We have been on the wrong foot since the beginning of time,' Stark cut her off. 'But this time, we obviously have the same objective. None of us want Sousuke Aizen to succeed in his plans, and none of us want him, or Ichimaru Gin…'

'…or fucking Tousen…'Grimmjow snarled.

'…in Hueco Mundo,' Stark finished, not minding the Sexta's interruption. 'I hoped that I had made my intentions of not fighting you clear on our previous encounter, and though the fact that you sought to test my strength as well as my resolve by setting your bulldog on my back does not make me thoroughly happy, I can accept it was needed.'

'What are the terms of the alliance you are proposing, Second Espada?' Kuchiki asked.

'I find the title insulting,' Stark drawled, making Isane cringe at the sudden change of flavor in the reiatsu around them. 'Be so kind as to avoid using it.'

'Very well,' Byakuya nodded.

'I am not proposing any sort of alliance.' Stark answered, slowly and finally sheathing his scimitar. 'I assume you originally came here to thin the ranks of the Espada; two of you have already succeeded. One of you,' he continued, looking over his shoulder at Szayel Aporro, who had dispatched Ulquiorra back to the floor with a quick knee to the chin, 'has failed. I propose that you leave the Espada to us, and see to your own kind…'

'Excuse me, Stark,' Szayel purred, no trace of genuine apology in his voice. He cursed quietly under his breath, encountering much more resistance than he had anticipated, and leaned his full wheight on Ulquiorra's wound to keep him in place. 'I fail to see the intelligence in a passive tolerance accord, under the present circumstances.'

'…have to say he's right,' Grimmjow muttered, awkwardly scratching his head. Agreeing with Szayel clearly pained him, and he'd only spoken with half a voice. 'The stealth jumping of Halibel might have worked until now, but now that we've blown off the top of the tenth tower, I think we can safely say we poked God in the eye. Ain't no stealth from here on. Might as well take advantage of where we stand; it's not like the Duchess, the Cheshire cat and the bloody paladin will care much for your delegation of tasks, and make sure they attack us one by one.'

'Another correct and rich literary reference,' Szayel muttered. 'Mayhaps for lack of a zanpakutoh, Ulquiorra hit you over the head with a _book_? I am concerned about your health, Grimmjow.'

'Keep biting my ass, and I'll be concerned 'bout yours too,' the Sexta snarled in return. 'What the hell are you doing back there?' he snapped, turning around.

'Seeing to it that Ulquiorra stays down,' Szayel answered, looking up and frowning.

'Captain Kurosutchi's sekki shackles?' Isane asked, rapidly recognizing the device that the Octava had placed on Ulquiorra's wrists, and immediately feeling its effects on the Cuarta's reiatsu. 'Where did you get those?'

'You let Tesla loose?' Stark asked, snappily turning around. 'Szayel Aporro…'

'Where is the danger in that, under the present circumstances?' the Octava sighed, in a tone that showed he felt insulted by the interrogation. 'Oh dear,' Szayel breathed sharply, placing an alarmed hand over his lips, 'he may run to Aizen, and _blow our cover!_ Certainly, the fact that Yammy is now roaming God knows where and the fact that you have reduced Ulquiorra to a pulp will not draw Aizen's attention – yet, Tesla will for sure! Whatever shall we do! The woe, the unspeakable panic!_'_

His eyes narrowed, the left corner of his upper lip curling upwards in disgust. 'Let's be serious,' the pink-haired Arrancar continued, rising to his feet and clenching his hands behind his back. Stark shrugged, accepting the point.

Behind him, Ulquiorra struggled to his knees, but could force himself no further. Aside from completely sealing his reiatsu, the accursed device even stripped the air of any loose particles of spirit energy, rendering any hope of recovery vain.

Grimmjow unceremoniously lifted him by the shoulder, and pulled him forward before letting him drop again – Ichigo winced in the Cuarta's stead, drawing Stark's attention for a brief moment. The boy with the odd reiatsu was no Shinigami, the Segunda thought; his energy had nothing in common with that of his companions. Nor was his strange compassion for Ulquiorra shared by any others in his group.

'Are you expecting reinforcements, Shinigami?' Szayel asked, stepping up next to Stark.

'No,' Byakuya answered simply. 'The rest of the Gotei are otherwise occupied.'

'In the human world?' Szayel sweetly asked, making Kuchiki and Kenpachi look at him with suddenly tense attention. 'There is no need to look _that_ surprised,' the Octava followed. 'While I have had the misfortune of only running across hopelessly mentally challenged folk of your kind, of which vice-captain Abarai is a striking example, I do not underestimate your overall intelligence. I assume you predicted that Aizen would strike at the human world first – it is, after all, easier than immediately going after the Sereitei. I therefore also assume that you would be prepared to face him there, and not here.'

'I can neither confirm nor deny that assumption,' Byakuya responded flatly.

'You do not need to, your numbers and various strengths help with the inference. You have brought a wall smasher,' he continued, indicating Kenpachi, 'you yourself, captain Kuchiki are quite adept with your Shumpo – therefore, a fast mover, and half of your troupe consists of healers. Your group is not an attack force, it is a search and rescue party,' Szayel chuckled. 'And, since you have not left, I think I can safely assume have not yet found whatever you were here to rescue. Inoue Orihime, I wager.'

'And a few others,' Ichigo snarled. 'Like, Renji and Ishida…'

'And Nemu-chan,' Isane softly completed.

'The fact that you are divided is not good.' Stark started slowly, ignoring the two. 'If the majority of the Gotei's offensive force is indeed in the human world, your position here is at least precarious, Captain Kuchiki.' Kuchiki did not bother to contradict him.

'No more than yours at the moment,' the captain of the 6th said, calmly. 'But unlike you, Hollow, we can still withdraw to Soul Society. I would rather we did not, with our mission unaccomplished, but I will not pointlessly endanger anyone for longer than I have to.'

The Segunda lazily looked at Szayel Aporro, chewing on Byakuya's dry statement. The Shinigami captain was right – neither of the two groups alone stood any chance against the five remaining opponents, and the army of Numeros that lay in waiting. What made it all even worse, Stark thought, was the fact that the encounter with Kenpachi had made him aware of the fact that his presence could not rival Aizen's.

'I thoroughly dislike their kind,' he non-directionally said, at long length.

'I believe they tend to have little patience for ours,' Szayel Aporro answered dryly.

'I'd rather chew off my arm then actively collaborate with them,' Stark continued, pointlessly arguing against an unfair universe.

'Feel free,' the Octava impassively shrugged. 'Since you are not a power type, the absence of an arm should matter little when you regain the use of your brain and stop refusing to accept the obvious.'

'He's right, Stark, and you know it.' Grimmjow added, in an unusually soft voice. 'Aizen won't let this go, now. With only Halibel and Barragan, an' without his little lapdog here,' he added, giving Ulquiorra a painful shake, 'things are turning a tad complicated. He won't let us – or them,' he continued, tilting his head towards the Shinigami, 'leave Hueco Mundo and join the rest of the Gotei, and while we are here, we're no match for him.'

'Have both of you gone mad?' Stark furiously hissed, spinning on himself. His voice had dropped to a whisper forcing the other two closer; even Neliel had slowly approached. She'd shifted aside from Szayel Aporro, and leaned on Stark's arm, trying to get his attention. He had ignored her utterly. 'What am I saying?' he muttered, looking up at the sky. 'One of you was mad to begin with and the other spent his life looking to get hit over the head!'

'What do you think will happen after we win against Aizen – if we win against Aizen?' Stark grumbled. 'Who do you think the Gotei will go after once he is dead?'

'The same people they would go after if they win against Aizen alone,' Szayel smirked. 'Perhaps if we refrain from – excuse me, Neliel Tu – pissing against the wind in this one occasion, we might actually lower the probability of a massive Gotei clean-up of the _unnatural_ creatures in Hueco Mundo…By two thirds of a percentage, but…'

'Not all of us preserve our wretched existence by bending over and saying – 'Oh, please, do me without ointment!' Szayel Aporro,' Grimmjow muttered. 'Look, dude,' the Sexta began, ignoring Szayel's furious blush and turning to Stark. 'They may be fuckers but they are fair fuckers. In the end, they didn't off me. Or Neliel Tu, for that matter.'

'That's because they had no clue what she was,' Stark snapped.

'That was even after,' the Tercera said, softly squeezing Stark's arm. 'Listen. I trust them, and I trust Ichigo…let me finish!' she said, pressing each syllable, in an uncharacteristically commanding voice. 'Look, I know how you feel, I am not gonna ask you to trust them as well.'

'You might as well ask me to commit ritual suicide right now,' the Segunda snarled.

'However,' Neliel followed, her insistant stare forcing him to turn his head and meet it. 'this isn't all about trust. You're not thinking straight, either – you're letting your rage get in the way of your reason. I've known you for a long time now, and that's one of the few things I haven't seen you do.'

Stark smirked.

'Firstly, Kuchiki is right.' Neliel implacably followed. 'They can still retire, in which case, we are screwed. They may not retire, and we choose to act separately, in which case Aizen takes us all in turn - they are screwed, and we are screwed as well. Together we could actually face him down, if not outright defeat him. Just consider it – all of us together make ten captain class presences. That's more than the Gotei ought to have deployed in the real world…'

'Big boobs _and_ she can count!' Grimmjow snickered; Neliel dryly smacked him over the head, not even looking his way.

'If you discount the ooze in the jar,' Neliel continued, calmly, 'we're nine. Still enough.'

'We would be four even without them,' Stark faintly protested. 'Aizen only has four left, and if we act fast…'

'You can't take Aizen, Stark.' she whispered apologetically, wrapping her arm around his and giving it a tight squeeze. 'We've just seen you can't.'

'Oh, bloody hell,' Stark sighed, in utter defeat. He looked to the side at Lilinette, as if asking for her approval; she returned a stern, unpleasantly cold glance. 'What do you want me to do? I don't see any other course of action. I told you I cannot face this Kenpachi thing – we have seen I was right, and Aizen should, by all accounts be worse.' he grunted, knowing that she felt betrayed. Seen through her eyes, his weakness grew to tremendous, unforgiveable proportions, and he looked away in rage and embarrassment. 'Seriously, Lilinette…what do you want me to do?'

The Fracction bit her lip and remained silent, staring blankly ahead. Stark took a deep breath, seeking to still the insidious self loathing that had started filling his veins with lead, then faced up to Byakuya.

'The remaining Espada were Vasto Lorde before the Hongyaku,' he said, in a neutral tone. 'One of them is stronger than I am, the other is comparable to me. They have seven equally dangerous Fracctiones in between them…'

'Disgusting,' Ulquiorra hissed. Grimmjow rendered him silent by a quick and dry slap with the back of his hand.

* * *

Up next - Can Ulquiorra _possibly _get into more trouble? Szayel says he can.


	26. Mutual Favors

Hello all, and thank you for your kind comments :)

A stage setting chapter, where many logistcs are handled :)

Warnings - Grimmjow being Grimmow, Ichigo partly being Grimmjow. As in, language. Byakuya has filed a written protest against needless vulgarities, in triplicate, using form CDN-147/a/2005. His request was rejected, as a newer form exists. He is currently re-filing.

Chapter 26 - Where favors are exchanged.

* * *

'We had agreed on a visit from yourself and the healer,' Stark said, arching an eyebrow. 'Or am I so tired that I am seeing triple?'

'Kurosaki Ichigo is not under my direct command; I could not truly impede him to join,' Byakuya responded, not needing to look in Ichigo's direction to know the impetuous human boy had already clasped his sword.

'Ya, but Ichigo's always welcome!' Neliel exclaimed, darting to the Shinigami's side. In spite of the cheer in her voice, she grabbed the human's wrist with such strength that Ichigo had winced. 'Don't wave your sword at Stark, Ichi.' she hissed in his ear. 'He's in a _very _bad mood.'

'I am in an indifferent mood. Haven't slept in whole nine hours, however, so I'd appreciate the shortness of your visit.' the Segunda sighed, letting himself drop onto Szayel Aporro's chair and leering dangerously at Szayel's predictable muttered protests.

Byakuya drew a deep breath, but instead of calming his nerves, the almost tangible _lack _of smell in the chamber had the precisely opposite effect. The air in the basement of the eighth tower was cool and slightly humid, both to the absolutely perfect extent; unlike the headquarters of the 12th division, this chamber did not smell of overheated machines or odd chemicals, though it was full of machinery and its walls were covered in vials – somehow, the pointedly artificial atmosphere was even more unpleasant, more ominous. The master of this chamber knew just how much he had to hide.

He had not tried to push a prisoner release – judging by the Segunda's demeanor, after the encounter with Kenpachi, the request would have stretched bridges too thin. Instead, Byakuya had asked to verify that all the captives were unharmed, and that had been granted without much argument.

Normally, Byakuya would not have placed himself in such a risky situation, the gesture of good-will was absolutely needed. So far, it had only been the Arrancar - and Stark in particular - to expose themselves to dangerous positions that would affirm their resolve; if there was any hope of the collaboration functioning in spite of the deep, inherent and mutual distrust that the Segunda's brush against Kenpachi only rendered deeper, Byakuya needed to expose himself in turn and perhaps amass sufficient good will to eventually justify the release of his vice-captain.

He'd asked Kenpachi to inform Unohana of the evolution of the events, and fetch her and the rest of the group to the upper levels of the eighth tower. Both the captain of the 11th and Yachiru had protested loudly and at length, but they had truly been left with no choice. Kenpachi's presence in the basement of eighth tower would have added a much unneeded threatening overtone to the entire endeavor, removing every last trace of good-will and impeding the formation of even the most minute shred of actual trust – and though he would never probably admit as much, Kenpachi himself must have sensed it and relented.

Thus, after grudgingly giving his accord to Byakuya's plan, Kenpachi had been set free of the Quincy's Zeichen. Each of the five Arrancar had grabbed hold of one of the Steele Schneider, and vanished simultaneously in different directions, dismantling the reiatsu trap. After Yachiru had jumped on his shoulder, and given him a tight hug, which probably would have strangled the life out of anyone else, Kenpachi had gone away, grunting a well-meaning 'It's not over, punk!' in Stark's general direction, in place of farewell.

'I appreciate you being forthcoming and allowing us to ascertain the state of our companions,' Byakuya said, advancing a step. Stark shrugged.

Absolutely oblivious to the thin ice that lay under his every step, Ichigo brushed past without waiting, rushing to the side of Ishida's cell; at Byakuya's other side, Isane was aching to get to Nemu, but demonstrated admirable restraint.

'By all means,' Szayel muttered, in Stark's stead. 'Ascertain. A horde of stampeding buffalo, you say?' he sighed to Verona, as, in his rush of making sure Ishida was perfectly well from all possible angles, Ichigo bumped into one of the control panels. Both the Fracction and the Espada cringed visibly.

Kuchiki's presence had rendered Abarai surprisingly quiet, and the two had exchanged no words as the captain slowly advanced towards the transparent cylinder. Renji had merely bowed his head, ever so slightly, and a surprisingly warm glance had passed between them.

'Kuchiki Rukia is well,' Byakuya had said, expressionlessly, and Renji had looked up, his lips moving silently as if thanking the sky. 'You will be well soon, too.' He had added, in the same coldly assured tone, making Renji nod.

Byakuya had not spared Kurosutchi more than a passing leer. Much like all the other captains of the Gotei, the captain of the 6th did not feel too much sympathy towards Mayuri Kurosutchi – the lack of the feeling irked him slightly, for no other reason than that it would force him to heavily rely on his rational, duty-bound sense of loyalty in eventually negotiating for the captain of the 12th. He glanced at his side at Isane, who, with refreshing honesty, did not even bother to pretend that she cared for Kurosutchi's state, beyond the obvious and distressful effect it had on Nemu.

The vice captain of the 12th had shown no more signs of acknowledging Isane's presence than she had Ishida's; she continued to stare blankly at the floor, though Isane had knelt by her side.

'Did you hurt her?' Isane asked, anger lurking beneath the deceiving calm of her voice.

'Quite the opposite,' Szayel answered dryly.

Isane had looked up, meeting the Arrancar's golden and impassible stare for a mere moment, before he bowed his head causing his lenses to gleam and hide his eyes. She frowned.

'Nemu has only a certain degree of independent will…' Isane began, softly.

'I acknowledge that,' the Octava answered, in the same indifferent tone. 'Hence, the lack of proper retaliation.'

'Then, will you let her go?'

Isane had not asked for Byakuya's permission before speaking, nor had she addressed the question to Stark.

'I understand,' she continued, kindly, 'that we all are in an awkward situation. I also understand that, by the rules of engagement, you have already made more than enough concessions – that is why captain Kuchiki, who is diplomatic and proper, will not ask you for anything further at this time. Perhaps I should not, either, but…'

'Kurosutchi Nemu is of no use to you,' Byakuya added, much to Isane's surprise. 'She is not a _proper_ soul, and she does not carry a zanpakutoh. Her position in the 12th division is only honorary. Whether now or later, the Gotei will not negotiate for her.'

It had not been a request, not per se, Stark thought, looking up at Grimmjow to find the Sexta shared his amusement at the Shinigami's non-comittal declaration – Byakuya was merely informing them that in Nemu's case, their efforts were useless.

'But funnily enough, the Gotei _will_ negotiate for her captain,' Stark smiled, arching an ironic eyebrow. 'How do we find that particular kink in the logic of the Universe, young Uryu?'

'Absolutely disgusting,' Ishida hissed, with such violence that he made Ichigo frown.

'From my perspective, captain Kuchiki,' the Segunda continued, shielding his tired eyes with his forearm, 'the Quincy and the gigai can go – I know neither of them will lend me any leverage. I think that Szayel Aporro might have a few objections to that, however.'

'He ain't poked anyone with any needles yet,' Grimmjow clarified, with a wide grin. 'But, think about it, Szayel Aporro, you'll have this one,' he added, nudging Ulquiorra with his foot. The Cuarta, who'd been carelessly dropped at the side of the panel, did not react in any way. Instead, Ichigo's jaw clenched. 'You don't have enough time for both of them, so perhaps you should go for a sure gain on at least one. A Quincy for Ulquiorra,' the Sexta cackled. 'Life is like a box of chocolates, isn't it, dude?'

He nudged Ulquiorra again.

'Quit that, Grimmjow,' Ichigo snarled, taking a wide step forward, with such a furious expression that Neliel felt obliged to dart across his path.

'Yes,' Stark said, softly. 'Quit it. You're irking me.'

Though the Segunda had not removed his forearm from his eyes, the next careless nudge of Grimmjow's foot had encountered his Hierro, which briefly shimmered around the Cuarta, making Ulquiorra look up and smirk in disgust.

'Still with your code, eh?' Grimmjow asked ironically.

'Always with my code,' the Segunda tiredly responded. 'Not even cats get to play with their food in my presence.' he added, with a light chuckle.

'Do a good thing for _once_, Szayel Aporro,' Neliel prompted. 'Let the little Shinigami go.' Unlike the others' tones, which had been quite indifferent, hers had been unexplainably cutting, and accompanied by an unpleasant tension in her reiatsu.

The Octava briefly met her glance, and smirked.

'As much as I would like to oblige your polite requests,' he said, taking a small step forward, and slithering out from in between Stark and his panels. 'I think Nemu-chan _in particular_ should stay just where she is. Do not take me the wrong way,' Szayel continued to purr. 'I am very sensitive to the fact that returning vice-captain Kurosutchi to you may look like a very generous gesture. The kind that Stark is inclined to concede to, when it personally costs him nothing.'

The odd, sudden hatred that had dripped out of the last phrase had caught Byakuya by surprise. He had looked up, but not met the Octava's glance.

'Allow me to explain – or rather, demonstrate – my point,' Szayel had continued, on and even, warm tone that made the fury of his last words seem like an illusion. Breaking the odd balance of black and white uniforms, which had been aligned on the two sides of the chamber, he passed in between Kuchiki and Isane to stand before Nemu's cell. 'How are we doing, Nemu-chan?' he inquired kindly.

As if the floor of the container had suddenly caught flames, Nemu had darted to her feet.

'I _will _kill you, Szayel Aporro Granz!' she hissed or cackled – it was hard to tell, for she had uttered the words in a voice that was barely recognizable as her own, pressing her palms against the glass so powerfully that her skin had turned as white as Ulquiorra's. Frightened, Isane had instinctively drawn aside, and even Byakuya had slightly inched backwards. 'It does not matter when it will occur. It just matters that it will occur, and I am assured you will care very much about the _how_.' Nemu had continued. Her eyes sparkled with rage, her pupils ringed with gold.

'Good day to you too, Kurosutchi Mayuri,' Szayel Aporro snickered.

Nemu straightened, taking a small step back and turning her glance to Byakuya.

'Captain Kuchiki,' Nemu said, coldly. 'I urge you to make some visible effort of setting us free. As you can see, I am beginning to lose my patience, and I am assured that the captain commander…'

Not even frowning, Szayel Aporro reached for the control panel and sent a strong influx of oxygen out through the floor of Mayuri's container; the bubbles caused the captain's liquid form to writhe desperately – Nemu cried out in pain, and dropped to her knees, her eyes fading to black.

'Isane,' she whispered, softly, looking at the white-haired vice-captain as if she had seen her for the first time. 'Mayuri-sama is very angry, Isane…'

'Are you in pain, vice-captain Kurosutchi?' Byakuya asked – his tone was unusually kind, Ichigo noticed. He'd never even thought Kuchiki's voice could master that particular inflexion.

'No, thank you, captain Kuchiki, I am not experiencing any personal physical discomfort.' Nemu mechanically responded. It was all she could master, before her glance turned dull, and she once again looked to the floor.

There was silence.

'Yo, Kuchiki…Have you never tried to break this shit up?'

Grimmjow spoke out first, against all logic.

'It's fucking disturbing,' he muttered.

'We do not interfere in the command chain of other divisions,' Byakuya answered, his voice once again cold.

'What he means to say,' Stark intervened, suddenly jumping to his feet, 'is that since she is not one of them, they could not care less.'

'That is a questionable assertion,' Byakuya answered, suddenly sounding angry.

'Nonetheless,' Szayel said, walking away from the container, and passing pointedly between Neliel and Ichigo without looking at either of them, 'pretty Nemu cannot be let out. She will jump me as soon as she is free, and I will be obliged to kill her. It is an outcome that I assure you, I do not find more desirable than you do,' he added, with a little telling smirk. 'I find her quite intriguing.'

'Oh, your kindness warms my heart. Did ya use Fornicares on her?' Grimmjow asked, catching on very fast.

'That too,' Szayel Aporro replied dryly.

Neliel shook her head, looking to the side to hide her embarrassment from Ichigo; though he had no idea why she had done it, Ichigo had frowned, intuiting that whatever it was, it must have been something terribly bad. Neliel's gesture did not escape Stark; his frown grew menacing, and he breathed deeply, seeking to still his rising temper.

'I believe you have seen all you've asked to see, captain Kuchiki,' the Segunda said, taking a step forward. 'And I believe we have said everything we have to say to each other until further developments.'

'Probably,' Byakuya said, softly. He drew a deep breath, and took a step forward in his turn. The Espada's proximity gave him an eerie, unpleasant feeling – in spite of his careless posture, Stark was almost half a foot taller, and whether intentionally or not, his reiatsu was chokingly present. 'I truly do appreciate your honesty and attachments so far…Hollow.'

'Stark,' Lilinette hissed from behind.

'…Stark,' the Shinigami echoed. 'Your willingness to collaborate against Aizen shall not go unnoticed by the Gotei.'

Neliel cringed; of all the things the Shinigami could have said, this was probably the most ill-chosen.

'He didn't mean it like _that_,' she pleadingly uttered, making Ichigo turn his head in surprise.

'Like his recognition of my…of _our_ actions was the ultimate reward we, as manifestations of _evil_ reiatsu could hope for?' Stark chuckled. 'On the contrary, Nellie, I think that is exactly what he meant.'

He remained silent, continuing to look in Byakuya's eyes, and not even noticing that his shoulders had slowly straightened. The captain of the 6th sustained the leer, no trace of emotion on his face and no movement in his reiatsu, and Stark bit his lower lip, willing his fingers away from the hilt of his sword.

'You'd have a nice phrase to get us through this momentary strain of communications, Szayel Aporro…' the Segunda said, his glance not breaking away from Byakuya's.

'Let's not dwell on linguistics,' Szayel said, snickering in his turn.

'Indeed,' Stark reiterated, 'let's not. I assume that your acknowledgement drives to a point, Captain Kuchiki.'

Byakuya nodded briefly.

'Myself and captain Unohana will probably find that your periodic release of a hostage, in the order of your choosing, can only benefit to our mutual trust,' he said, calmly. 'You might also wish to consider that, should you keep them away from battle, you will be keeping two captain class presences from assisting our side.'

'The only place Kurosutchi Mayuri is going is _up_, in smoke,' Szayel said, with the same unsettling and deeply hateful undertone that had resounded in his voice before.

'We shall discuss all of them at a later stage.' Stark answered, carelessly gesturing towards the four and not taking note of the Octava's words; behind the Segunda, Byakuya noticed, the mask of sweet, polite solicitude had shattered, and for the blink of an eye, Szayel's face had reflected the same hatred as his voice had. The mask had returned almost immediately.

'Under the circumstances, I assume you would want to stay close, but out of Aizen's eyesight.' the Segunda lazily said, turning away and switching discourse. 'If you want to keep a bit of privacy, you need to put some sekki stone between yourselves and the sky. Anywhere in Castle Doom you might kindly indicate, Szayel Aporro?' he asked, over his shoulder. As if he had been asked to give his right arm for the benefit of his fellow man, Szayel emitted a deep, heart-wrenching sigh.

'The fourth level has _some _sekki stone lining,' he answered, unwillingly.

For the first time, Ulquiorra looked up, eyes attentively narrowed, and though he had not looked away from Stark, Byakuya frowned briefly.

'Should our position be discussed in front of…' he began, in an impassible tone.

'Ulquiorra?' Stark chuckled, half turning towards his former companion. 'He will stop being a safety concern once you have withdrawn.'

'Or even earlier,' Grimmjow snarled, leaning over and picking the Cuarta up by his throat. Despite the fact that he obviously had no strength left, Ulquiorra did not even wince; as the burning light of the Cero began gathering next to his temple, the eerie perfection of his features was only marked by a defiant frown.

'You will die, Grimmjow,' he said, without anger – a mere statement of fact. It was probably the lack of emotion in his voice to save him. The Sexta's extended fingers curled into a fist, and planted an impossibly strong punch into the Cuarta's stomach. The energy release had glimmered powerfully, making all of Ulquiorra's muscles contract and causing a few droplets of blood to drip from his still open wound. Both Grimmjow and Szayel had grinned with terrifying sadistic satisfaction.

'Grimmjow, don't,' Neliel commanded – the Sexta contented himself on a wide, manic grin, and lifted Ulquiorra a few inches higher.

'Nnoitra must have gotten to your brain, Nellie,' he cackled.

'Stop him,' Ichigo breathed to the Segunda, brushing past Neliel. He escaped Byakuya's attempt at catching him by the shoulder of the uniform, only to painfully hit his chest against Stark's Hierro. 'You stopped him before, stop him now!' Yet, it had not been the burning cold of the contact to make both the human and the former Tercera gasp in surprise. Obviously amused by Ichigo's words, Stark had slowly turned to face the Shinigami; on his features, and in his suddenly fully opened eyes, reigned the same expression of cold, too long delayed enjoyment that the other two Arrancar displayed.

'Why would I stop him?' the Segunda uttered, in a voice so low it was barely more than a whisper. 'He is no longer playing.'

'Damn it!' Ichigo spat, struggling forward, in sudden understanding that no help was forthcoming. 'Grimmjow! Stop it!'

'I swear, Kurosaki, you're the dumbest…' the Sexta laughed. His fingers were so tightly clenched around Ulquiorra's throat that his fingernails had left deep, red imprints into the Cuatra's skin.

'Stop it, fucker,' Ichigo hissed. 'Goddamn it, Grimmjow, _you owe me!_'

The Sexta's grasp on Ulquiorra's throat had loosened so fast that the Cuarta had almost fallen. Grimmjow's reiatsu had dropped equally fast – it was only his breath that furiously hastened and deepened.

'Oh?' Szayel purred, in a honey filled tone, and, as Stark turned to look at Grimmjow with undisguised, superior amusement, his Hierro receded as well. Ichigo did not advance. In his turn, the Sexta didn't look at either of his companions; he looked to Ulquiorra instead.

_Did I look like that_, Grimmjow thought, meeting the Cuarta's obviously pained, but still pointlessly defiant glance, _when Kurosaki's sword stopped Santa Teresa?_

He felt each and every one of Ulquiorra's pained, shallow gasps of breath as if they had been daggers shredding up his fingers and into his arm.

_Did I also hate him this much? Did I also lie to myself, and think that I would not be grateful? _

'That's a big fucking favor you're calling in, Kurosaki,' Grimmjow drawled, at length. 'You sure you want to call it in for Ulquiorra's sake, dude? 'Cuz there ain't gonna be a second calling.'

'He doesn't deserve to die like this,' Ichigo stubbornly repeated, the resolve in his voice making even Byakuya frown.

'As if you bloody know what kind of death Ulquiorra deserves!' the Sexta exploded.

'No more than you do. Stop it, Grimmjow,' Ichigo whispered.

Grimmjow hesitated for long seconds, his fingers cutting off Ulquiorra's breath completely; then, wordlessly, with the facial expression of a man who had been tearing his very soul out, he cast the Cuatra aside and turned away.

'I don't wanna hear it, Stark,' he muttered, passing by the Segunda with his hands deeply shoved in his pockets, and not even needing to look up to know that Stark was almost insanely amused. 'Shut your trap. I don't wanna _fucking_ hear it.'

* * *

Up next - the calm before the storm.


	27. The Embassy

Good afternoon everyone - and welcome to the beginning of the second part of our plot :)

Many thanks to VampireCabbit and Maidros for overseeing this one - and thank you all for your kind comments :) A cookie to those who can guess the names of the two French kings Neliel mentions in the chapter below - the historical occasion is the 24th of August 1572.

Chapter 27 - Where Ulquiorra comes to, and clouds stretch over paradise.

* * *

'You let Isane stay behind?' Unohana asked, softly.

She had managed to put just enough scorn in her voice to make Byakuya blush, ever so slightly, and she mischievously enjoyed the look on his features as he looked up. It was a rare event that anything or anyone evaded Kuchiki Byakuya's will – he looked if he had suddenly been ashamed of the fact that his control over the Universe was not as tight as the control he had over himself.

'There was nothing I could do to prevent vice-captain Kotetsu from…' he began excusing himself – he stopped abruptly, noticing Unohana was smiling.

'I approve of her actions,' the captain of the 4th interrupted, kindly, then looked into the distance.

As if by miracle, the eighth tower was not overly damaged; though a domed adjoining building had clearly been leveled over by a powerful explosion, the tower itself stood, eerily alone and apart from the other intact constructions, under the deceivingly serene blue sky of Las Noches.

'I approve of _your_ actions,' she continued, at length.

Byakuya nodded softly in response, following her glance as it drifted to the side, at Neliel. The Tercera sat beside Ichigo, on the opposite edge of the narrow terrace. The human was thoughtful, and she respected his silence, being content to sit by his side, loosely clasping her knees to her chest. The too short top that she wore – a man's shirt which had clearly not been designed for the shape of her body – revealed the lower edge of the tattoo on her back, between softly swaying turquoise tresses. Neliel Tu had closed her eyes, her face directed upwards, her features illuminated by a soft, dreamy smile, as if she had remembered being somewhere else, or imagined she was somewhere else. Did Hollows have imagination? Byakuya wondered, looking away.

'They are fascinating…things,' he said. He was not sure what he was feeling, thus, rather than allow himself to sound uncertain, he'd sounded perfectly flat. Not even the slight hesitation had been out of place.

'You cannot even bring yourself to think of them as creatures,' Unohana noted, without scorn.

'It would imply they are _animate_,' Byakuya answered. 'In possession of a soul.'

'Technically, they possess many souls.'

'That is why they have none,' he retorted, a bit more abruptly than he would have liked. Neliel had looked his way, but said nothing although the expression on her features had become sad. She had sustained his glance for a few seconds, then again turned towards the sky.

'He's not as much of a creep as he makes himself sound,' Ichigo clumsily offered. 'He is just emotionally challenged, ya know?'

Neliel laughed; it was a pretty, pleasant sound, and her amusement caused her reiatsu to gather the sweet fragrance of freshly cut grass.

'That's OK,' she said. 'I'm not easily ticked off. He might want to cut down on the stuff around Stark, though. That kind of talk is the only thing that removes his usual torpor.'

'Eh?' Ichigo frowned.

'Uhm, laziness, kind of,' she laughed again. 'Or maybe unwillingness to cope with a world that doesn't suit his particular philosophy of it. Just like your friend, here.'

Neliel softly tilted her head to the side as the boy turned towards her.

'What was it with you and this guy?' he asked. 'You make it sound like you know him very well, but I can't see the two of you getting along…'

'Oh, we did more than get along,' she mischievously grinned. 'What?' Neliel laughed, to Ichigo's shocked face. 'Look at me, Ichi-kun. I'm not a baby; I'm even willing to bet that I've been dead longer than you've been alive.'

'Yeah, maybe, but I still can't get used to you like…this,' he muttered, blushing fiercely, as he unwillingly glanced at her chest and swallowed dry. 'So, like…what happened? To you and the guy?'

'Stark,' she scolded kindly, then looked into the distance as he reluctantly nodded. 'He's different than the rest of them,' she began softly. 'Not like Grimmjow and … Nnoitra. How do I explain?' Neliel sighed. 'Hueco Mundo is literally a dog eat dog place,' she continued, with a wink. 'And Aizen's arrival only set it on fire even more; he wanted to gather all the Vasto Lorde around himself, and after he succeeded, to some extent…'cuz he didn't find all of them, and some didn't follow, he started using the Hongyaku on the Adjuchas. Those who would have been Vasto Lorde sooner or later, like, say, myself, Grimm, Nnoitra, Yammy, and many of the Numeros got their human bodies ahead of time. And some even came out significantly stronger than the old Vasto 

Lorde. Poor Dordonii…'she said, her voice trailing off. 'He was among the first made. Who'd have thought he'd also be the first to go...'

Ichigo nodded.

'The world's order was shattered,' Neliel reiterated after a while. 'Some Adjuchas saw an opportunity for revenge on their old nemesis, and others, just suddenly aware of the fact that they could _evolve_, began to aggressively pursue the Espada ranks.'

'You're not like that,' the boy answered.

'No,' she shook her head, 'I'm not. I don't even have a clue why I came out like I did, and though I thought it was nice to get ranked, I didn't really get what the fuss was about. I mean, you get a cool tattoo. So what? For everything else, nothing changed. We still spent our eternities hunting other hollows. Just now, with another purpose than eating them.'

'Or that's what I thought in the beginning. After a while though,' Neliel continued, 'I started becoming aware of how fast people were switching in and out of seats around me. Some of them were gone because Aizen made others that were stronger. Some of them were gone because they were killed by their own kind, some of them because they were killed by your kind – but all of them prey to the same fear, chewed by the same hunger.'

'After a while, not even Nnoitra's constant picking on me could make me even raise an eyebrow. It was boring me to tears.' Neliel concluded, flatly. 'And it was boring Stark to tears, so…'

She laughed again, guessing by the look in the human's eyes that the flat unraveling of her promising story hadn't quite lived up to his expectations.

'So that was it?' Ichigo exclaimed. 'You were bored together?'

'I even think that's the first phrase he ever said to me – Let's be bored together. Only he said it in French - _Viens, chere amie, allons nous ennuyer emsemble..._ Because some French king said it to another guy who became the king of France after the first guy got killed by getting poisoned and sweat blood for a week. It was while they were standing at a window watching a massive slaughter, apparently,' she giggled, watching Ichigo's eyes get wider and wider with surprise and incomprehension. 'Stark has a very strange sense of humor. He also knows a lot of weird things like that. And he's not boring at all.'

'Apparently, I am,' she said, and Ichigo had to struggle to distinguish if her voice had carried any trace of regret.

'I really don't think you could be boring, Nel. Maybe painful,' Ichigo muttered, feeling across his ribs, 'but definitely not boring. Besides, you eat Ceros and you have the healing snot. Who in their right mind would let go of the healing snot?'

'Dunno if you noticed that Stark doesn't _really_ get hurt,' she giggled, clearly appreciating his efforts. 'I'm a bit too straightforward for him. Which is fine, because he was too complicated for me, too – I liked him very much, I still like him. He's good to have around; though he doesn't involve himself in many things, his presence is…reassuring, somehow. Sometimes, you've got to get sex out of the way before you can be friends with someone.' she winked.

'It's nice you can say that about a guy who left you,' Ichigo muttered, not finding what else to say. Neliel giggled.

'He didn't leave me. We just sort of…let it go. Healing snot or no healing snot, we didn't fit at all. I'm bored because I don't look too deeply into things, they just are. While he's bored precisely because he looks too deeply into things, and sooner or later, everything loses its mystery. Except Lilinette.'

'Lilinette?'

'The little blonde girl. She's a sweetie,' Nel said, warmly.

'The one who stole Ulquiorra's sword?' the human gasped. '_A sweetie_?'

'Yeah,' she laughed out loud, leaning back and stretching, before crossing her legs. 'So what about you and Orihime-chan, Ichi?' the Arrancar mischievously asked. Ichigo scratched his head.

'There's no me and Inoue,' he said, blushing even more powerfully than before. 'We are just friends.'

'Uh-huh,' Neliel muttered, sounding thoroughly unconvinced. She looked at him sideways.

'What? What?' Ichigo asked, drawing back as she slowly inched forward. 'What! Nel! No!' he yelped, trying to dart to his feet with dreadfully slow gestures. The massively strong Arrancar knocked him over and began mercilessly tickling him. 'Confess!' she laughed, undisturbed by his thrashing.

'Nel! You're breaking the rest of my ribs now, Nel!' he cried, amid desperate chuckles, protesting and wincing, but laughing so hard tears were streaming down his face – and, for a few moments, as unapologetic young life spread under the dead sky, the fake sunlight felt real.

'You know, Byakuya,' Unohana Retsu began, bowing her head to disguise a smile.

Behind the two Shinigami captains, a helpless Ichigo, trapped between Nel's knees, had no choice but to listen to the Arrancar's version of how Inoue would declare her undying love to him, then kiss him – hotly! ; he squirmed to get away from the amazingly accurate imitation of himself declaring his undying love in turn, then desperately tried to avoid Nel's rendition of the absolutely unavoidable hug.

'…sometimes,' Unohana followed, 'in-depth knowledge of correct definitions is only useful in making you see their limitations, and helping you transcend them. Some things, like _souls, _for instance, are too complex to be constrained by words or beliefs. They simply _are,_ even where they should not be, and it takes wisdom to recognize their presence.'

'Yes, Unohana-_senpai,' _Byakuya said, simply. 'I think Isane understands it far better than I do.' He added, after a while.

'Indeed,' Unohana nodded. 'That's why it is wise that she stayed behinds. Where you formed a pact, she may, perhaps, form an alliance.'

* * *

'Is this condition normal for her?' Szayel asked, making Isane turn around very abruptly. He was annoyingly silent when he chose to be, and constant hum of the machines in the background helped hide his steps almost completely – he'd given her heart a good start.

'I haven't really ever seen her like this,' the young woman answered, taking a few deep breaths to calm herself down. He approached, but not too much, choosing to stay a few awkward feet away from both Isane and Nemu's container. Was he as afraid of her as she was of him? Isane wondered. Or at least as curious?

She had watched him carefully examine the burned imprint of her fingers on Ulquiorra's arm, and he had been the only one amid the Arrancar to give her any attention. Grimmjow had stalked off towards the darkness in the immense back of he chamber, probably to cool off his temper, and Stark had fallen asleep on Szayel's chair almost the instant that Kuchiki and Ichigo had left the room. The young blonde girl had reproachfully stared at him for a few minutes, but clearly decided against brutally waking him up. She had, instead, sat on his lap and leaned her forehead to his chest, causing him to stir ever so slightly and half open one eye.

'You still angry at me?' he'd asked, lazily stretching his legs onto the other chair, and shifting to accommodate her.

'Ya.' she had cuttingly answered. 'Cuz you're a shitty liar.'

'Mhmm.' Stark had muttered, in a non-committal way. 'Will you get over it soon?'

'No.' she had declared.

'But we sleep, now?' he had asked in a hopeful tone, bringing his arm about her shoulders then softly grasping her fingers, and pulling them down, to hide his hollow hole under her hand.

'We're gonna lose,' Lilinette had said, flatly. 'If you can't take Aizen - and you can't, we're gonna lose. An' I really don't get why you won't let me help; if Szayel Aporro can make me…'

'We sleep now,' he had repeated, this time commandingly, closing his eyes so she wouldn't see the darkness that stirred in their depth. She had pinched his shoulder, making him wince, but, understanding that he would not discuss further, she'd settled in his arms and closed her eye. Stark's reiatsu closed about her, invisible but almost tangible in its consistency; her light grew, feeding on it and completing her healing, as Lilinette fell asleep, the rhythm of her breath matching the Espada's, and neither had moved again, as if the rest of the world around them, Isane included, had not existed at all.

'I assume it has to do with Kurosutchi's condition', Szayel said, shaking Isane out of her thoughts and into immediate reality.

'Maybe,' she nodded, taking a step back to verify whether the Arrancar had been indeed scared of her. Contrary to her expectations however, Szayel Aporro did not withdraw. He chuckled lightly, as if guessing her thoughts.

'I am merely trying not to set off another attack, vice-captain Kotetsu,' Szayel Aporro said. 'I am much more powerful than you are.' She did not answer; though it was oddly undecided and delicate, his reiatsu proved that he was right, and the declaration had not been provocative. 'How is she, normally?' he inquired. 'Simply reactive, or…'

'She's alive.' Isane shrugged, wondering if the statement was enough to explain Nemu. 'She eats ice-cream with pickles, when she thinks no one is watching, she likes music, although she never really dares to dance, she likes having people around her, and sometimes, for very short moments, she's silly just to make others laugh. When nights are clear, she sits on the roof and looks at the moon, and she loves snow fights. Although,' Isane briefly smiled, 'she never quite gets that snowballs should not be deadly projectiles.'

'She is the only good thing that captain Kurosutchi ever made…or did, in my opinion.' She completed, at length.

'The programming of her personality is indeed an impressive accomplishment,' Szayel politely nodded, clearly demonstrating that he had missed Isane's point completely. 'It is strange that he chose to waste her by making her non-functional when he is non-functional.'

They were silent for a moment, and Isane shifted uncomfortably under his stare – it was neither cold nor menacing, just inordinately curious and unduly amused.

'I wonder if she can exist without him,' Szayel muttered, questioningly gazing at the young woman beside him. 'I wonder how I might test that…'

'I doubt Nemu can exist without captain Kurosutchi,' Isane answered, surprised at the quickness and harshness of her own words; the Arrancar snickered.

'Poor little Nemu,' he off-handedly said, eyeing the Quincy. 'Everyone likes her, but no one really likes her _enough_.' His eyes narrowed with satisfaction when Ishida did not look away.

_Yes, I thought you would agree with me on that one, Ishida Uryu._

'But it is amusing that the limits of your own conditioning are so immediately apparent, vice-captain Kotetsu,' he purred; despite the obviously mocking nature of the statement, the tone of his voice had almost made it sound like a compliment. 'You are concerned enough about your friend to stay behind and place yourself in a dangerous position, but the moment I even allude doing away with a man you clearly hate, but who happens to wear a cloak you were trained to respect, all that kind concern goes away.'

'It's like magic,' he seductively whispered, snapping his fingers and sending chills down her spine.

The Arrancar's physical proximity had an intoxicating effect – not because it was unpleasant, quite to the contrary, because it was unexplainably, hypnotically attractive, on a level that bypassed the brain and went directly to the instincts. He did not smell of anything, not per se, but the air around him felt oddly rarefied and warm, while his frail frame and the soft light in his honey colored eyes made him look sweet, graceful and helpless like a sleeping kitten.

'You emit an abnormally high amount of pheromones,' Isane noted, then smiled amusedly at his surprised expression. 'I am a healer,' she snickered softly. 'I think you should suspect I have some knowledge of anatomy.'

'It is not that which surprises me,' he answered, taking a small step back. 'It's the fact that you actually made the logical connection between your knowledge and your sensations. Impressive.' Szayel Aporro grinned.

Now, the compliment had sounded like a threat; he had not given her time to dwell on the sound of his voice.

'It is always funny to observe the limits of others' compassion,' he said, returning to Nemu. 'Or rather the boundary between a compassionate compulsion – as one must have, to subdue such a powerful reiatsu as you clearly possess into healing – and the mockery of compassion that one is duty bound to feel. Your nature would tell you to help Nemu, but your sense of duty tells you it should not come at the cost of Kurosutchi's too long delayed demise. Quite a cognitive dissonance there, vice-captain Kotetsu.'

'And I would really like to save you from it,' he added, not waiting for her to respond, 'because I too am of a very _helpful _nature. I just can't figure out how to actually kill him, yet.' Szayel Aporro had flatly stated – he'd looked at her, obviously waiting for a reaction that would satisfy whatever eerie curiosity lurked bend the frames of his mask. When she had produced none, Szayel Aporro had 

innocently shrugged, then turned away. His elongated shadow ominously stretched over Ulquiorra, and the sight had made Isane cringe.

_With true compassion_, the girl off-handedly thought. _Not the other kind._

'You will not harm him further, will you?' she asked, almost afraid of hearing the answer. 'There is no need for it, he is…'

'No, no,' he distractedly responded. 'I am just trying to understand what type of Kidou you used on his arm. What level it was, what type of art, and especially, how someone who pretends to be so innocent and meek as you do, vice-captain Kotetsu, could manage to do it silently. Because I was led to believe that silent Kidou is quite an accomplishment, yet, you're a vice-captain of a healing division, and you can perform it very well. I've already seen that Kenpachi individual possesses an almost immeasurable amount of reiatsu - perhaps in the end, I'll find out that all that made Aizen unique was his insanity. Given our position, that would not be altogether bad news.'

He bent over, leaning a knee on the floor.

'I'd need a skin sample, though,' Szayel Aporro mumbled to himself.

'Or I could just _tell _you?' Isane asked, with a little smirk.

'Then he wouldn't have any fun,' Stark mumbled, shifting his position. 'Oi, Lilinette, my arm is getting numb…'

'Tough,' she answered, not accommodating him in the least. The Segunda sighed.

'No screaming, or shrieking, or insane chipmunk faces, Szayel Aporro. Well actually, you can make insane faces as long as you don't shriek.'

'Your generosity brings a tear of gratitude to my eye,' the Octava whispered. 'You could always go and nap on another chair.'

'That would imply movement,' Stark muttered. 'I can't move when I'm asleep.'

'You're chatting and eavesdropping, hence you are _not_ asleep,' Szayel Aporro huffed.

'Am I chatting?…Nah, 'tis but an illusion,' the Segunda yawned. 'And by the way, it was way of destruction 54 – abolishing flames.'

'Well, now, thank you,' Szayel Aporro snapped, in clear dismay.

'How…'Isane began, in true wonder.

'Because he watched you cast it, vice-captain Kotetsu.'

Ulquiorra's voice had been surprisingly clear and calm, and the mere, slow motion of his chin had caused Szayel Aporro to jump three feet back. The Cuarta had not looked at him, however, and although his green, mesmerizing glance had been locked on to Isane's, his next words had clearly been addressed to Stark.

'It is in Stark's nature to attack from behind, and only after he has found a significant number of precise vulnerabilities in his opponent. One of the more irritating remnants of his human life, no doubt. He arrived in the tenth tower a few seconds after you did, but did not move in until he was absolutely sure he could defeat me without damaging himself. I was,' Ulquiorra continued, 'actually wondering how long he would wait.'

Isane looked at Lilinette, her eyes narrowing at the odd pressure of the Segunda's fingers on her shoulder.

'I was wondering if you would let me kill her,' Ulquiorra said, finally turning his glance to Stark.

'Blow me,' Lilinette whispered, not even opening her eye. '_I_ fucking had you.'

'Did you not wonder the same, Fracction?' Ulquiorra demanded, a trace of perverted amusement in his voice. 'You must have felt him coming, you must have felt him _there,_ waiting, while your reiatsu was draining away.'

'I did feel him,' the little girl matter-of-factly answered. She opened her eye and looked at Ulquiorra, but, to Isane's surprise, the admission had not made her move even an inch away from the Segunda. 'I bet it felt pretty much like what you're feeling now,' she giggled; though the tone of her laughter had been clear and sweet, like the sound of silver bells, it had made the Shinigami's skin crawl with the sadistic satisfaction it carried. ' 'Cuz you must _know_ your precious Aizen-sama is watching. And by now, I think you should be kindda praying that he won't leave you.'

Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed, as Stark arched an ironic eyebrow.

_Are you praying, Ulquiorra?_

The question remained unspoken.

'You think that I'd be pissed at Stark because he didn't promptly react to your baiting?' Lilinette sighed, settling back to Stark's chest, and exchanging an amused glance with the Segunda. 'You grabbed me to make him come out before the time was right. I ain't dumb. Neither is he. He trusted I wouldn't get myself killed, and I trusted that he won't let you even close to killing me. That's the big difference between the two of us, Ulquiorra-_sama_. I know how he thinks and what he's thinking, an' I never really doubt.' She concluded, with a little smirk. 'That's what makes me an equal partner to Stark, and you a bloody pawn to Aizen.'

'That was almost as good as kicking him in the balls,' Stark whispered, ruffling her hair.

Lilinette looked up, and the Segunda cringed visibly. Ulquiorra had already looked away, but the small twinge of tension between the two did not escape Szayel Aporro, who spun on himself to hide an immensely satisfied grin. Nor had the sudden chill escaped Isane. Though the Fracction had sounded thoroughly convinced of her speech, and clearly hit a target against Ulquiorra, this last exchanged glance had been a warning. The fact that she would not give the Cuarta any satisfaction did not imply that everything was alright in the Universe that only had room for two. Quite the opposite.

'Gonna go find Grimm. I think he is in need of my unparalleled wisdom and kind touch. Or a kick, if the first two don't work, which prolly, they won't 'cuz I won't be tryin' too hard.' she said non-directionally, and jumped off the chair. 'Y'all play nicely together!' Lilinette chimed, before vanishing to Sonido; her glance had briefly crossed with Szayel's, but it had been too fast for him to read into her thoughts. Yet, the fact that her stare had been pointed and almost dark had made him react less furiously at the events of the following second. 'Whoops!' her voice resounded from the back of the laboratory, immediately followed by the horrible noise of broken glass and knocked over metal. 'Didn't know that could break!'

'Going!' Lumina shrieked, jumping from the right.

'Gone!' Verona echoed, bouncing from the left, and both had disappeared into the darkness before Szayel Aporro could even mimic the slightest gesture. He had, nonetheless, sighed and arranged his hair.

'Perhaps it's not only her brain that's faulty. Have you ever considered she may need glasses? Or a monocle, rather?' he shot towards Stark.

'Nah,' the Segunda lazily stretched. 'She does it on purpose. Nice try, there, Ulquiorra. Aizen is clearly teaching you new tricks - _divide et impera_ was never one of your tactics before him.' Stark added, putting his feet on the floor and leaning his elbows on his knees. 'If you're in the mood for mind games, you've clearly recovered enough for a serious chat.'

Ulquiorra looked up, indifferently meeting his glance.

'Speak,' he prompted coldly, the word darting out like a whiplash.

Isane had had no time to ascertain that the glance Stark had given her when he had felt her shudder as charged with hate as the Cuarta's word.

* * *

Up next - Aizen still has one faithful friend. Well, what else did you expect?


	28. Knight in Shining Armor

If it was not clear to me before I wrote this chapter, it is clear now - I do bloody hate Ulquiorra. There were points during this where I actually envisioned a plot twist involving Conan the Barbarian jumping out of the wall and decapitating him with a huge two handed axe, then kissing Szayel and walking off into the sunset. Oddly enough, it was not the unexplained interruption to my strenuously constructed story line here that Conan might have caused that stopped me, but rather the fact that the little pink Christina Aguilera monster in my head said he does not kiss anyone who hasn't brushed his teeth for the better part of two thousand years.

And no, the fact that Conan is now the governor of California doesn't make any difference :D

Thank you all for your reviews , and special thanks to Maidros and VampireCabbit who actually toiled over this with me to keep Conan out.

Chapter 28 - Where Ulquiorra says a lot by saying little.

* * *

'Did you even suspect delicate Ulquiorra had enough fighting spirit to take him quite this far, Szayel Aporro?' Stark grinned. 'He should be dead three times over, and he's still snapping at my ankles. Quite amazing.'

'Yes, he truly makes my head spin…However, fighting spirit is not one of the qualities that I find more worthy of admiration,' the Octava sweetly purred. 'I believe, Cuarta, that you actually managed to irk away the only person who does respect it.'

'In his own manic, sociopathic way, of course,' Stark shrugged. 'I have a sneaking suspicion that you're going to start missing Grimmjow very soon.'

Unphased, Ulquiorra looked up.

'I warned Aizen-sama that you will sooner or later bite the hand that fed you,' he observed.

'Did he dismiss your warning before or after he served you a cup of tea?' Stark inquired crossing his arms over his chest.

'He did not dismiss it,' Ulquiorra responded. 'He merely assured me that he would be able to handle it when the time comes, and though I am sure he would not expect your treachery to surface at a time like this…'

'That's quite a blunder, I would say,' the Segunda shrugged. 'What better time would there be?'

'How far do you think you will get with your games, _Segunda?_' he asked, a twist of irony in his voice. 'Your Shinigami allies will be as impotent against Aizen-sama as they were when he crossed. Do you, then, think _you_ are capable of facing him? You, who could not face down a crazed Shinigami captain, who doesn't even master a shikai? I would be ashamed to even consider the prospect.'

'You can't see it because he does not properly care for his complexion, but he's blushing in his heart,' Szayel Aporro answered, in Stark's turn, pressing his hand over the center of his chest, and, for a moment, the blue-eyed Espada actually felt grateful. Until, of course, Ulquiorra's oddly sweetened glance connected with his.

'But then, Segunda, I am perhaps already giving you false hope. You will never make it as far as Aizen-sama – and there will be no need for me to watch Aizen-sama's back. With or without me, your choice of allies has already assured your failure.'

'I am honored to be noticed,' Szayel purred.

'Have any of your masters and allies have so far survived you, Octava?' Ulquiorra asked, snappily turning his chin towards the pink-haired Arrancar. 'You seem to carry a deadly aura for those foolish enough to associate with you. Was it not Cirucci I saw hanging from a meat hook as I was dragged in? And was it not Nnoitra that I felt die a little while ago? Were I you, Stark,' the Cuarta whispered, painstakingly rising to his feet. 'I would be quite concerned.'

'Your trump card stops being your trump card once you've used it, Ulquiorra.' Szayel said blankly. 'Divide et impera will not serve better now than it did a few minutes ago; unlike in Lilinette's case,' he added, in a sotto voce with deeply unpleasant vibrations, 'he has _this_ situation well in hand.'

The Cuarta ignored him utterly, his gaze locked on to Stark's.

'I hope you do not imagine you will get anything from me, Segunda You did not let Grimmjow walk away from me for Kurosaki's sake. His insanity is plagued by illusions of equity, but yours is not.'

'Fair point,' Stark chuckled, leaning back. 'You should not overestimate yourself, however; not everything has gone on according to my logic. I would rather have simply killed you _in locus_, but folk kept getting in the way. I would kill you now…'

Isane stepped forth rapidly, and Szayel chuckled, in spite of himself, noticing Ulquiorra's disgusted leer.

'…but folks are still getting in the way,' Stark sighed, in utter boredom.

'Summary execution of prisoners is not…' Isane began, not knowing whether she had sounded as insecure as she thought she had.

'In the style of the Court of Pure Souls,' the Segunda concluded for her. Though his voice had sounded on level, the furious edge had been unmistakable. 'I don't know if you have noticed, vice-captain Kotetsu,' Stark continued, turning his gaze to her and making her freeze in her tracks, 'this is not exactly the Sereitei, and none of us is exactly a pure soul. With your exception, of course,' he added, sweetly.

'Nonetheless…'Isane began to argue, her voice melting under his stare. She swallowed dry, and remained motionless, but sustained the Hollow's leer. She felt as if her heart was about to burst through her chest, with fear, but also an odd excitement – and indeed, she thought, almost feeling ashamed, an immense amount of curiosity. The man's demeanor changed radically when he stopped ignoring her; in fact, simply noticing her seemed to make his reiatsu swell furiously. It was a reaction that not even his Espada enemy elicited. 'Nonetheless,' she said, finding that her voice was still tiny, 'we could try and abide by each others'…sensibilities, maybe…habits as long as we hope to…collaborate.'

'Oh?' Stark mused, arching an eyebrow. 'Will you start consuming each others' reiatsu to abide by the local habit as well, Shinigami?'

Isane swallowed dry again. She did not answer, but she continued to stand within three feet of the Arrancar. Her insistence amused; Stark shook his head and Szayel Aporro snickered. Both measured her for a few seconds, then looked away.

'So you see, Ulquiorra,' Stark sighed, 'We are being watched. We need to be on our best behavior.'

'Maybe there might be information he holds and that he would share…' Isane whispered, then coughed, to adjust her voice. 'Captain Kuchiki…' she began, sounding a lot more assured.

'If captain Kuchiki can find a use for him, then captain Kuchiki should by all means have him. Keep him, feed him, and take him out for regular walks, just like Aizen did.' Stark suddenly snapped, so furiously that even Szayel Aporro drew back. 'Since captain Kuchiki has not seen it fit to keep Ulquiorra for himself, I assume that he has no use for Ulquiorra either.'

Isane opened her mouth, but the Segunda cut her off.

'And since the captain of the 6th division Kuchiki Byakuya is _not_ an idiot, and he does not strike me as particularly sensitive to Hollows' well being and civil liberties,' he said, slowly, 'I assume that his lack of interest in Ulquiorra stems from his past experiences with Aizen. Can you follow so far, vice-captain Kotetsu?'

She nodded.

'Good,' Stark snarled. 'I only say things _once._'

It was his turn to swallow dry, and, for a moment, the corners of Ulquiorra's mouth actually straightened denoting…amusement? Isane off-handedly thought. Stark had noticed it as well. He bit his lower lip.

'Are you finding this entertaining, master Schiffer?'

'I am,' Ulquiorra said. He cringed, and let himself lean rather heavily on the wall behind him, but continued to speak, his icy glance sliding over Isane; though his tone was flat, and his reiatsu was fully subdued, she could feel his amusement as if it had been the approach of snow on a frosty morning. 'If I shall harbor any regrets about not witnessing your struggles and ultimate destruction, Segunda, they shall not be related to watching you die. I would simply like to see which one of your irrational passions will tear you apart first.'

'I shall do my best to prioritize,' Stark said, his temper barely in check. 'And I shall do my best to keep you entertained further. You see, vice-captain Kotetsu,' he continued, looking away from the Cuarta, 'I suspect the lack of interest in Ulquiorra that your superiors are demonstrating comes from the fact that, much like me, they know that Aizen is not in the habit of sharing important information with unimportant minions.'

Ulquiorra jolted as if he had been slapped, but stopped himself before retaliating. Stark and Szayel Aporro looked at each other, making Isane frown briefly.

'His circle of trust did not extend beyond Gin and Tousen when he resided in the Sereitei,' Szayel purred. 'There is no reason to assume that it extends beyond them now, vice-captain Kotetsu. That is why,' he said, in a voice that was almost kind, 'your _compassionate _insistence that Ulquiorra continues to live is touching, yet impractical. He knows absolutely nothing the rest of us do not.'

'After all,' Szayel continued, slipping his fingers through his hair, 'there is nothing that makes Ulquiorra special.'

He stepped forth to hide Isane from Ulquiorra's view. The Octava's golden glance had slipped into hers as he gracefully slid by, the effect of his sweet, intoxicating presence briefly sliding over her senses. There was no trace of command or despise in his eyes – just a mild hint of amusement, and an ironic prompt in the sensuous tilt of his head to the side.

'He is not the strongest among the Arrancar; not by far. Neliel Tu was stronger than him; so is Halibel, and he is not in the same class as Stark and Barragan.' Szayel continued to explain. 'And, if I dare say so, there are quite a few among our kind that are significantly brighter…I would offer myself as an example, but that would be disgracefully immodest.'

'To avoid that_,_' he chuckled, 'I will resort to an example of someone smarter that is closer in time, though doubtlessly farther from Ulquiorra's heart – Grimmjow poignantly springs to mind.'

This time, the expected reaction was immediate; the Cuarta forced himself straight, sheer rage driving his injured, frail, frame.

'How dare you speak to me thus, Octava,' he uttered, in a menacing sotto voce.

'There is no reason to be offended by logical evidence, Ulquiorra,' Stark answered, in Szayel's stead. 'You are vastly stronger than Grimmjow, but he took you out of combat _twice_ in the past two days. Well,' he snickered, 'that is actually quite offensive, if I think about it. Him being an Adjucha and all…'

'So, vice-captain Kotetsu,' Szayel sweetly continued, 'there is no logical reason for Ulquiorra to be any closer to Aizen's plans than the rest of us.'

'You're pitiful,' Ulquiorra responded, self assurance and proud resolve in his voice. 'You continue to amuse me, Segunda. I did not presume that jealousy was, after all, one the many human emotions you struggled to preserve. You earlier inquired,' he continued, 'how it felt to have you still above me after the Hongyaku transformation – let me reflect the question and mirror your curiosity. How did it feel to have your precious territory, the precious borders of your safety eradicated?'

Isane winced at the abruptly solid consistency of the air around her; though Szayel Aporro's reaction had been fainter than hers, he too had drawn a deep, unsettled breath. The only one that seemed unaffected was Ulquiorra, who continued to slowly speak his satisfaction through clenched teeth.

'Three hundred years of carefully amassing power, centuries of culling enemies that could have rivaled you, of negotiating pacts with stronger enemies only to denounce them and stab them in the back, of picking each and every fight with paranoid attention, all of it erased by a single gesture, by the will of a single man. By Aizen-sama's will. How much you must have hated him.' Ulquiorra stated, with something that might have resembled satisfaction lurking in his voice. 'And, in the end of all things, after you were obliged to renounce all that you had built for yourself, you did not even gain a position of authority. Does that not disturb your sleep, Second Espada?'

'You think I envy your position around Aizen?' Stark asked, darting to his feet.

'Indeed,' Ulquiorra responded, dryly. 'The responsibilities it carries, the satisfaction and the purpose…'

'The satisfaction of heroically kidnapping a teenage girl?' The Segunda inquired, arching an eyebrow. 'Surely that is beneath you - I would have thought that was a job for Yammy…'

'The satisfaction of contributing to a goal greater than a menial hunting ground. Inoue Orihime's capture held great tactical importance.'

'Healing Grimmjow's arm?' Szayel sweetly inquired. 'That seems rather ungrateful of Aizen-sama, Ulquiorra. I mean, all the trouble you went through, and the first thing Aizen chose to do when he had a trinket that could reverse world events and tie the space time continuum into a pretty pink bow was reinstate the Sexta. Who'd have suspected Aizen liked Grimmjow _that_ much?'

'Laughable,' Ulquiorra answered coldly.

Stark and Szayel had not even looked at each other, and neither of their expressions had changed – Isane however looked up at the Octava with sudden comprehension. The mockery was not simple sadism; it had a very clear purpose. The two were probably hoping that they would cause sufficient injury to Ulquiorra's pride to make him defend it by showing just how close he had been to Aizen's plans. The chosen method was not what Isane would have expected, but even the few hours that she had spent around Ulquiorra told her it was well devised. Physical intimidation would not work on him, she thought, looking at the Cuarta's blank features and impossibly straight frame. One might have had a better chance of intimidating a brick wall.

'I can, of course, not claim to understand God's mind as only the brightest among his angels could,' the Octava conceded, gracefully extending his arm to the side, 'yet, given Inoue Orihime's impressive powers, would it not have made more sense to use her to enhance the Hongyaku? Or port into Sereitei and wish the Court of Pure Souls out of existence?'

'You understand nothing_,'_ the Cuarta answered. 'Orihime is incapable of that; she does not control her powers to that extent yet.'

_The first mistake,_ Isane thought.

'On familiar terms with the child, are we?' Stark inquired. 'Was Nnoitra right in his insane cackling fits? Ulquiorra?' he pressed, eyes wide in surprise and amusement at the fact that his blindly shot barb had struck true – when the Cuarta stubbornly and pointedly clenched his jaws, Stark actually drew back, shaking his head in disbelief. 'I think the Cuarta has a soft spot. Can you believe this, Szayel Aporro?' he asked, incredulously.

'Why not?' Szayel shrugged. 'She certainly has an adorable joie-de-vivre. As well as an impressive upper chest area…what?' he inquired, looking offended at the fact that Stark was now chuckling in honest. 'I am not _blind!' _Szayel spat, in righteous anger. 'I would have been distracted by it for a small quarter of an hour as well. Perhaps half an hour, depending upon actual shape and muscular density…'

'Firmness, Szayel,' Stark prompted. 'It is called firmness.'

'Disgusting,' Ulquiorra breathed out, and this time his anger had been fully uncontrolled. Thoroughly disturbed by the course of the conversation, Isane nonetheless registered the exchange of glances between Stark and Szayel.

'…after which,' Szayel Aporro continued, adjusting his glasses, 'I would have brutally remembered that she is able to erase events out of existence, and started on a training program that might have helped her reach her full potential sooner rather than later. Might have taken away some of the joie-de-vivre,' the Octava innocently admitted, 'but…great goals require great sacrifices. Now that I think of it, it's still an avenue worth exploring,' Szayel frowned.

'I am unsure,' Stark thoughtfully answered, 'Though it might be tempting to try things on _Orihime_, now that the door is unguarded, I'd say we'll stay put in that regard. A pet that can erase events out of existence might also erase _you_ out of existence. That's not even a pet anymore. If even Aizen was afraid to temper with her powers…'

'Aizen-sama is far above mere mortals. He has no reason to fear anyone.' Ulquiorra responded, returning to his unflappable demeanor. 'Least of all Inoue Orihime. Her elevation to a useful level of control over her powers would take decades.'

_A second one._

'Under your gentle care, certainly. In more capable hands, say, mine…' Szayel Aporro began.

'There was no need for your distasteful sadism, Octava. The moment she crossed into Hueco Mundo, Orihime served her goal, according to Aizen-sama's wishes and design,' the Cuarta said. 'And, judging by your present company, Segunda, she did far better than even Aizen-sama had anticipated.' He completed, casting a brief glance to the side at Isane. 'We return to the beginning of our discussion, Stark. The goal has _already_ been reached; with or without me, Aizen-sama…'

He stopped; finally losing his resolve, the Segunda laughed, not menacingly, but in genuine amusement. He'd probably found all that he thought he needed to know, Isane realized. _The third and last mistake._

'Go on,' Szayel prompted, after a sharp, surprised gasp of his own. 'It was getting exciting. Be still, my heart…'

'You are undeserving.' Ulquiorra said. He frowned as Stark sighed, looking at Szayel Aporro.

_Should you, or shall I? _the Segunda's glance asked.

The Octava arched a graceful eyebrow.

_By all means, the pleasure should be all yours._

'I must hand it to you, Szayel Aporro, playing with one's food is more satisfying than I would have thought.' Stark said. Still amused, his glance turned to the Cuarta. 'We are undeserving of what, Ulquiorra? Of hearing that Inoue's gifts had nothing to do with her kidnapping, and that he merely brought her here to divide the Gotei's strike force?'

The Cuarta's chin suddenly straightened.

'We've snapped at each others' throats for the better part of the past two centuries, master Schiffer. I'd be grateful if you gave me more credit than assuming I would not eventually see through _that. _It is good that you were kind enough to confirm it, however.'

'Let me explain what I understood. Aizen has good knowledge of the strengths and weaknesses of Inoue's friends; he had ample opportunity to observe them when he used their invasion of Soul Society to retrieve the Hongyaku, so he knew exactly what to expect. On many fronts. Their respective strengths, on one hand. Their allegiances, on the other. Where Inoue Orihime went, her human friends would follow.' Stark continued. 'And where they went, their Shinigami friends would go as well.'

'And herein lies the great secret of God's logic.' Stark chuckled. 'It's not really Inoue that's the key, but still Kuchiki Rukia. I swear Aizen has a weakness for her…Of course, the human girl has her powers. Of course, if she actually fell in line with the Gotei, there could be trouble on the horizon, but not in time for the winter offensive… That much was clear from the moment Aizen graciously demonstrated the girl's powers on Grimmjow's arm. A nice distraction and a good bait, but, as you've just gracefully confirmed…Not quite a large enough one.'

'A fly to catch a trout,' Szayel obligingly shrugged, for Isane's benefit.

'Indeed. Aizen knew Kuchiki Rukia would join the games; it was her, after all, who took Inoue to Soul Society – from whence you so graciously and bravely retrieved her. Once the unwitting group was assembled, and entered Las Noches, the events were more or less inevitable. All Gin had to do was make sure that Rukia met exactly who she was supposed to meet, namely your friend and mine, Aaroniero. Not a hard game for one who controls the disposition of the corridors.'

'That must have been a psychologically traumatizing moment for the girl,' Szayel chuckled.

'She was so distressed she almost woke _me_ up,' Stark shrugged. 'And if that level of distress didn't catch her brother's ear, the outcome of the battle certainly did. The younger Kuchiki was a good match for Aaroniero; the battle needed to be balanced, else Rukia's distress might not have lasted long enough or reached far enough – of course, Aaroniero was told that she was an easy enemy, so he…it…_they_?' the Segunda corrected himself, with a small confused frown, '…in any event, our dear Gillian did not pay enough attention and got himself offed, injuring the girl, but not killing her. Whether her brother actually heard her reiatsu failing, or simply got worried over the lack of communication is irrelevant. Kuchiki Rukia was alive in Hueco Mundo for long enough to draw Byakuya in.'

'A trout to catch a bear,' the Octava completed, smiling sweetly, as Ulquiorra's breath became almost artificially even.

'And from here, God's plan gets even more interesting.' Stark mused. 'Your ruse with Inoue Orihime's goodbye to the human realm made sure that the Captain Commander, who is still as easily fooled by Aizen as he ever was, would not send a large group to help captain Kuchiki's efforts. That is why it had to be the Kuchiki family – they reach high enough in the Sereitei for the captain commander not to be able to refuse them outright. And they also have good friends, that wield far more than political power.'

'How good are we at reading God's mind so far, Ulquiorra-kun?' Szayel whispered, softly. The Cuarta did not answer; in turn, understanding the logic, Isane shook her head in dismay.

'The brilliance of this was, of course, the fact that Aizen would get to hit two birds with one stone – he'd not only separate a number of captains from the larger Gotei force but also conduct some spring renewal schemes in the throne room. It was a win-win situation for him – he'd mix and match the Espada who would eventually become threatening to his former Shinigami allies. Whichever lost, he'd get an enemy out of the way and weaken another, by no effort of his own. For one who has spent two centuries in the Court of Pure Souls, as Aizen has, it would not have been too hard to predict who'd join captain Kuchiki,' Stark continued, leaning forward and frowning as Ulquiorra's features turned almost translucently pale.

'I think the only one Aizen himself fears among the group is Unohana Retsu,' the Segunda said, softly, briefly and reproachfully glancing to the side at Isane. 'She can see through Kyoka Suigetsu, thus she would need to be very far away from the main force of the Gotei when Aizen chose to strike. By pulling captain Kuchiki in, Aizen was very sure of achieving that. She would join him, because any rescue mission would depend on prompt healing. Also,' he added, grinning, 'because she may be a lot more adventurous than the stillness of her reiatsu would suggest…What do you say? I think I am doing quite well, in spite of having been excluded from Aizen's supposed inner circle.' Stark said with a wide smile, which made the Cuarta's lower jaw become cuttingly tense.

'To proceed to the heretics.' The Segunda reiterated. 'This part must have had even you grinning, Ulquiorra… An unlikely good friend to Kuchiki and Unohana, Zaraki Kenpachi doesn't have much use for the Captain Commander's logic, and while he is obviously mad, he's not dumb at all. He was, as far as I recall, one of the first to catch on to Aizen's first brilliant plan. Also, if memory serves, Kenpachi handed Tousen's ass to him without too much chatter. He was meant for me. Did you suggest that match, Ulquiorra?'

'Yes,' the Cuarta finally confirmed, a twinge of uncontrolled vanity in his voice. 'Seeing you come so close to failing gave me genuine pleasure.'

'It figures,' Stark shrugged. 'Your second recommendation did not strike far from the mark either. Kurosutchi Mayuri for Szayel Aporro.'

'Indeed,' Szayel intervened, his expression no longer sweet, 'Kurosutchi Mayuri. Not driven by any sort of friendship of allegiance to Kuchiki, but one who'd predictably welcome an excursion into a world full of things to poke at. In various ways,' he snarled.

'I did not suggest Kurosutchi for you, Szayel Aporro,' Ulquiorra retaliated. 'Gin did. A brilliant choice.'

'Aah, it was Gin, then…Must have disliked his panels being bugged,' the Octava remarked, mostly to himself. 'In all honesty, it is himself he should have been angry at…you should never borrow circuits from me unless you know _exactly_ what they do. Or you should at least check before implanting them in various sensors. He was almost begging for it.'

'What do you think you've proved?' Ulquiorra asked, indifferently. 'The fact that you have somehow grasped Aizen-sama's plans does not lessen my role in them. Or their brilliance. On the contrary, as we speak, Unohana Retsu as well as Kuchiki and Kenpachi are separated from the Gotei, as Aizen-sama wished. Kurosutchi Mayuri is as good as dead – an unexpected boon, though I must say, Szayel Aporro, we had expected you to actually do away with vice-captain Abarai before the captain of the 12th division did away with you. Six captains remain outside Hueco Mundo. It is almost an even split, but in no way an equal match of strength for Aizen-sama, Gin, Tousen, Halibel and Barragan. As your pathetic gathering here is no match for them.'

'Perhaps,' Stark said, on a neutral tone. 'I have a question for you, though, Cuarta before you start enjoying yourself too much. In his _brilliance_, God saw to it that I met my match, and saw to it that Szayel Aporro met his match. How did he provide for Grimmjow?'

'Aizen-sama saw no need to provide for Grimmjow,' Ulquiorra laughed. 'The Sexta would run himself against Kurosaki for as many times as was needed to finally get himself killed; nothing else mattered to him but his insane, pointless quest, and he deserved to die.'

'Yes, yes, of course,' Stark nodded. 'But it strikes me as weird that without Grimmjow's getting Inoue Orihime out of her cell, I would have had no reason to go out against Kenpachi.'

Ulquiorra frowned.

'Why would Aizen leave such an important detail to chance?'

'What are you implying, Stark?' he asked.

'I am, as usual, implying nothing. I am just trying to draw your attention to the fact that your participation in Aizen's schemes was not always as superiorly informed and dignified as you imagine.'

_Almost sad,_ the Segunda distractedly thought.

'You went for Kurosaki. You couldn't resist it; I guess you have not cowed yourself that far just yet. Still, you did not kill him – maybe so that Aizen would not have proof of your disobedience, or maybe because your sweet spot on the human girl actually prevented you from acting out your nature - as Grimm would have it, fuck knows, fuck cares. In the meanwhile, however, Grimmjow went for Inoue Orihime. Behind your back, and with Aizen's explicit approval.'

'Impossible,' Ulquiorra refuted. 'Aizen-sama would never hide this from me. All he would have to do would be to tell me where to release her, and I would have.'

'Yes, and then I would rushed to retrieve her because I am a notorious fool,' Stark snickered. 'If you had taken her to Kurosaki, I would not even have turned over when Gin sent me to get her. And if she had simply been released, it would have taken her a long time to find her friend all by herself. Even if I had gone for her, I would have found her long before she would have caught up with Kurosaki, thus missing my appointment with Kenpachi. No, Ulquiorra, the stage needed to be set better.'

'And you were not the director, my poor deluded nemesis. In this, you were more like the gun on the mantelpiece…by the end of the play, he needed to use you too, just like he had all of the other props. Inoue Orihime needed to be in a certain place, at a certain time, and the arrangement had to look perfect.'

'Even if it made _you_ look like a perfect fool,' Szayel added, with a little knowing grin.

'How about this for a stage-play, Cuarta?' Stark asked, leaning forward to enjoy the first look of genuine self-doubt on Ulquiorra's features. 'Grimmjow retrieves Inoue Orihime, and takes her to heal or even revive Kurosaki. In exchange for placing my bait, the Sexta gets to fight Kurosaki at an appointed spot that just incidentally happens to be less than half a mile away from a Senkai Gate.'

'And here comes the part that I, for one, find hilarious,' Stark continued. 'You went back to check on the girl and found she was not there; had you, like the good boy you were supposed to be, taken thirty seconds to Sonido to Aizen and inform him that Grimm had taken Orihime for a walk, he probably would have let you in on the finer points of my predictable demise, and assured you that Grimmjow's actions would not go unpunished. He would have told you to relax, offered you a cup of tea, and invited you to sit by his divine side to watch Kurosaki and Grimmjow beating the living daylights out of each other, in preparation for the main event. There was no way that you could hide the mishap – Loly and Menoly were going to tell him soon enough anyway. But that was not your problem at the height of the plot. Your most pressing concern was that you had no idea what Grimmjow would do to pretty Orihime. And thus, _you lost your head. _Can't blame you, either, Grimmjow is quite the unpredictable sod. So,' Stark concluded, crossing his arms over his stomach and barely keeping himself from bursting into outright laughter, 'instead of going to inform Aizen, you rushed to save the damsel from the lion.'

'How…medieval gallant of you, Ulquiorra,' Szayel chuckled lightly, making Isane wonder if she would have found watching the two physically tear the Cuarta apart more bearable.

'What's even better was that Aizen was so sure you'd fail the attention test, that he actually handed Grimmjow the means of getting you out of his way quickly.' Stark snickered, in his turn.

'No,' Ulquiorra stated flatly. 'Of all the ways he could have chosen to punish my error, Aizen-sama would never have humiliated me so. A Caja Negacion. Unconcieveable.'

'What better means to remind you that you are, after all, a servant?' the Segunda asked, almost kindly.

'No,' The Cuarta reiterated.

'Actually, dude, yeah.' Grimmjow sneered. His fangs gleamed dangerously in the semi-obscurity long before he shuffled forth, hands deep in his pockets. 'Why would I even have a Caja Negacion?' he beamed, innocently. 'Didn't you find that funny?'

The Cuarta swallowed dry; his features tensed as if he had experienced a tremendous surge of physical pain.

'Ya should have,' Grimmjow grinned, not in the least impressed. 'Why would I have a Caja Negacion, Ulquiorra?' He repeated, his words bleeding satisfaction. 'I ain't ever had a Fracction.'

For an all too brief moment, the symbolic trails of tears seemed a torturously fitting expression of what must have gone on in the Cuarta's heart.

* * *

Up next - Isane prepares Stark a sandwitch. No, really.


	29. Precious Illusions

Apologies for the particularly long hiatus. We actually went _out _these days. I know, I know an odd concept, but I swear there are things out there - like, trees, and sky, and dogs, and _people_. If you happen to be in/around London, take a good word of advice - (not recommending books this time, oi!) - Lost Society cocktail bar in Wandsworth Road has cocktail making classes, great atmosphere and really good drinks :) I realize three days of extra pause are not nice of me, but I can now make perfect Mojitos, and the Universe is richer :)

And now to the story.

Many thanks to Maidros and VampireCabbit, who iterated this bit with me until we all grew blue in the face and Ulquiorra almost gave resignation notice. And thank you all for reading and commenting :)

Warnings - some language, and hints at strong drug usage.

* * *

_You'll rescue me, right?  
In the exact same way they never did..  
I'll be happy, right?  
When your healing powers kick in_

_You'll complete me, right?  
Then my life can finally begin  
I'll be worthy right?  
Only when you realize the gem I am?_

_This ring will help me, yet, as will you knight in shining armor;  
This pill will help me, yet, as will these boys gone through like water..._

_These precious illusions in my head did not let me down  
When I was defenseless  
and parting with them is like parting with invisible best friends._

Alanis Morisette, Precious Illusions, off Under Rug Swept.

* * *

The screen was black, dead, and no logical argument that Szayel Aporro could make from in front of his panels could coax it back to life. He sighed, and nodded to the side at Verona – not needing further instructions, the Fraccion reset the sensors, then stretched over the keys to bring up the status monitor, for the third time. In this situation, although it knew that simply restarting the machines would not erase reality, Verona did not bother to argue. It was probably one of the few illogical things that Szayel Aporro did, he did have tendency of powering down, then powering up machines whose problems he couldn't understand or immediately fix. And for however illogical it was, and although Verona did not truly understand _why_, sometimes restarting simply…worked.

This was not one of those particular occasions.

Even more of the lines were now of the lines were blinking in an alarming red. Quite a few sent no readings at all, a simple, patient cursor blinking at the level of the sensor's number.

Szayel sighed, leaning his pointy chin on his palm.

'That is it, then,' he said, wistfully. 'While we were otherwise occupied, Gin was taking down my sensors. Stealing some of them too, technologically impaired creature that he is!' the Octava added, with a superior smirk.

'So the fucker's finally moving.' Grimmjow said, leaning in. ' 'Bout time, was starting to wonder if Tousen's blindness is catchy…'

'…infectious…' Szayel Aporro muttered, as if the wording had been a personal insult.

'Can you see when it started happening?' Stark inquired, yawning and crossing his arms over his chest.

'A few moments Kenpachi's reiatsu resurged,' the Octava answered. 'All events are time stamped, and it was, of course, the first thing I checked.' He added, in a sweet, yet bitingly condescending tone. 'He has not ventured too far out – everything that was in place beyond the seventh tower up to the perimeter around the tenth still stands. But for all other purposes, the rest of Las Noches has vanished. Ha!' Szayel shrieked, in climactic satisfaction. 'There are at least four sensors he didn't find – one in the third tower, one in the second… and two in the first! Hopeless fool,' he sighed, with the aftermath of the joy, delicately lifting his hair off his forehead.

Stark sighed in defeat, and turned away from the two, towards Ulquiorra. Apart for the slight jolt of his chin, just a split second before, when the sensors had been mentioned, the Cuarta hadn't moved at all; shackled wrists resting atop bent knees, and back leaning against the wall, he simply waited. Had he now, in the eleventh hour, hoped that Aizen would negotiate for him? Stark wondered, for the first time in two centuries finding Ulquiorra _interesting_. Had the Cuarta actually imagined his master would recognize his usefulness?

Having Ulquiorra at his side would have made Aizen close to invincible, in the current situation…why then, the Segunda wondered, biting his lower lip, had Aizen not mimicked even the slightest gesture in the Cuarta's defense, before his situation truly got desperate? Was he truly that expendable? Was Aizen quite that arrogantly deluded?

_Does he think me…us…that weak?_

It did not matter, Stark told himself, shaking his head ever so slightly, as if the thoughts had been irritating specks of dust. The train of thought led nowhere constructive.

'Where is Lilinette, Grimmjow?' he asked, rubbing his eyes.

'Around,' the Sexta answered, ambiguously. 'I would leave her alone, dude. For a while at least.'

The Segunda nodded, swallowing dry.

This train of thought was not constructive either.

'A short message to Kuchiki Byakuya might be in order at this point,' Stark uttered at length. He'd looked at Isane as he spoke – or, to be more precise, he had glanced in her direction and looked through her, as if he had been staring at the wall behind. The Espada had then slowly moved his glance towards the door, in an all too open invitation. She fidgeted uncomfortably, unwillingly looking at Nemu, then Ulquiorra, and making Szayel emit a little chuckle.

'Do not worry, vice-captain Kotetsu, you may leave us unsupervised. We will behave.' He had said, accurately reading Isane's hesitation. 'Your companions should be warned not to leave this tower, for the time being.'

'Eh, what?'

All four spun about simultaneously, looking equally surprised at Ichigo's sudden entrance.

'Renji!' Rukia exclaimed, rushing past Kurosaki and to the side of Abarai's cell; the vice-captain of the 6th darted to his feet, trying to disguise his happiness at seeing her and his embarrassment for his current position under a painfully artificial scowl. The young woman saw right thought it, and did not bother to pretend in her turn. 'Renji,' she whispered, in a soft tone, pressing her outstretched fingers against the glass.

As if a silent alarm had rung, Lumina and Verona surfaced and bounced towards Rukia at amazing speed.

'Don't touch that!' Verona shrieked, getting between the Shinigami and the control monitor.

'Don't touch that, either!' Lumina followed, blocking Rukia's path from the opposite direction, and effectively pushing her away from the cell.

'Gods, how many of you are there?' Stark sighed. 'I swear, Shinigami, you are like rats – if you see one, it means that there are hundreds foraging about.'

'Excuse me, Kurosaki Ichigo,' Szayel snapped, darting to his feet; he used his Sonido to get away from his panels and implacably bar the human's way, probably reckoning that if he had tried to slither out, he would have been too slow to block Ichigo from carelessly bumping into any machinery. 'I do not recall asking you in.'

'Rukia wanted to see Renji,' Ichigo shrugged.

'And that clearly explains _everything_,' Szayel Aporro snarled. 'I am very sure that you yourself have seen it fit to come in uninvited to see if Ulquiorra has any more bits missing. As you can see,' Szayel continued, his speech gaining momentum, 'Ulquiorra is as fresh as a May rose. I have not expressed my permission for you to be here, and until such time that I completely lose my reasoning abilities and do express it, you will keep away from…'

'I said it was OK,' Neliel Tu intervened, stepping into the laboratory in her turn, and Szayel visibly bit his tongue. 'I also said you were gonna let somebody go,' she added, in a low, menacing tone.

'That affirmation may have been slightly hasty,' Szayel muttered; she paid him no heed, passing by him to get to Stark's side as if he had not existed. The Octava breathed in deeply, and stubbornly locked his glance onto Ichigo, with far more intensity than the human thought he warranted. In turn, Nel propped herself to Stark's side and looked up at him blankly.

'Hm?' she said, arching an eyebrow.

'Hm to you too,' the Segunda mumbled, almost unwillingly looking down to meet her glance. 'Had fun upstairs?' he asked, in a non overly friendly manner.

'Had fun here?' Neliel retorted, her glance briefly sliding over Ulquiorra.

'Of sorts…' Stark had tried to sound indifferent, but, much to Ichigo's surprise, the words had not had a true ring. Probably noticing as much, the Segunda frowned. Her stare did not waver; it became mischievous and almost openly amused. The fury in the Segunda's reiatsu had not fully melted away, but it had, Isane noticed, in surprise, receded.

'You know you're going to do it sooner or later,' she winked. 'And sooner is better than later.'

'Nellie,' Stark sighed, shaking his head. 'How intelligent…'

'Yeah, yeah.' Neliel began, waving her hand in the air and dismissing his protest. 'One of us is talking without thinking, and for like once in a while, that isn't me. It's not intelligent than letting them out of the jars half an hour before you actually need them, either.' she interrupted, smiling wide. 'Because, of course, unfed, aching all over and sleep deprived, they're gonna be a bunch of help.'

'It hurts to admit,' Szayel sighed, 'but Neliel Tu actually has a point…'

'When I need your opinion on any subject, Szayel Aporro, I will point to you and say 'Speak!'' Neliel snapped, her reiatsu suddenly sharpening and making Ichigo unwillingly cringe. The concentration of power had been similar to the one he'd felt when she had reverted to her true from while fighting Nnoitra – pure, unadulterated fury, a destructive, electrically charged summer storm, pressingly present for one instant, completely gone the next.

'Come on,' she giggled in Stark's direction. 'You know I'm right, and more importantly, that I won't stop making big baby eyes until you do give in,' she added, poking out the tip of her tongue, and the Segunda finally rolled his eyes.

'Sucker,' Grimmjow ironically muttered.

'Now _I_ don't want to hear it, Grimmjow,' Stark snarled. He looked over his shoulder at Szayel Aporro, who indicated the position of the release switch with a quick flick of his wrist. The Segunda pressed it without further hesitation, and the balance of the room suddenly shifted. The container around Ishida lifted into the ceiling. Rukia had wistfully looked at Renji, and, though she had attempted to smile at the Quincy, she had clearly been disappointed.

Almost bumping into Stark in her hurry of ascertaining the state of her companion, Isane had jumped off the seat. She's stopped but a few inches from the man, and found herself incapable of moving, staring into his steel blue eyes like a rabbit caught in the gaze of a snake.

'When you're done, you might as well heal Ulquiorra,' Stark had muttered to Isane, and she quickly nodded in obvious relief. Grimmjow's face had twisted into a mask of rampaging fury, but the Segunda had contented himself on a shrug. 'We all know that's what's coming next – now that Kurosaki knows that asking Nellie for favors will get them granted.' He'd added, with a reproachful glance in Neliel's direction. 'We don't owe them anything, Nellie. I don't like you interceding on their behalf.'

'Ichigo saved my life. And he really didn't need to. How could I not help him?' the woman simply explained, in a warm whisper. Her eyes were fixed in Ichigo's back, and she did not see the flicker of tension that passed across Stark's features. 'I know you don't like it, but he's as much my friend as you are. I really, _really_ like him,' she whispered.

'You'll see,' she cheerfully completed. 'You won't be sorry, he's really a good guy. And you're still the absolutely coolest.'

Neliel's resplendent smile and a quick peck on the cheek had been Stark's reward, before the former Tercera had joined the Shinigami. Momentarily oblivious to the Espada behind him, Ichigo had gotten a serious start when she had poked him in the ribs.

'Say 'Thank you!' to the nice Arrancar,' she had prompted, pointing at herself and giggling at the amazement on his features.

'Thank you, Nel,' he responded, warmly glancing at her.

'Told ya I have powers! What are you waiting for?' Neliel had prompted, grabbing his hand, dragging him towards Ishida. Ichigo did not give in immediately. Instead of following her, he looked to Stark.

'And…thank you…Stark,' the replacement Shinigami said, in a decided tone. 'You had no obligation to do that.'

'I'm keenly aware of that, kid,' Stark lazily responded. 'But you seem to have made a compelling friend.'

Ichigo nodded, and yielded to Nel, who dragged him forth and disappeared amid the swirl of black robes, as Szayel Aporro shook his head and slinked back towards his panels.

The three Espada had silently stood by each other for a few seconds, observing the reunited group's obvious joy; none of the three had missed the fact that Neliel Tu's fingers had remained entwined with Ichigo's for a while longer than would have been absolutely necessary.

'Ya know, Stark,' Grimmjow drawled at length, taking advantage of the fact that Szayel Aporro looked hopelessly flustered to lean on the Octava's panels. 'I have a feelin' Nellie has her happy little eye on Kurosaki, though I doubt even she knows it yet. Poor idiot,' the Sexta had chuckled, in Stark's direction, though whether he had been thinking of the Segunda or of Kurosaki had been entirely unclear.

The Segunda drew an annoyed deep breath, and half turned towards Grimmjow.

'You should not be angry at her.'

Szayel's distant whisper had lodged Stark's reply in his throat.

'I'm not,' he said sincerely, his frown turning curious. 'I just desperately disapprove of her tastes, now more than ever.'

'She can't really help it. She is sincere each and every time she does this, but she has all the emotional stability of a five week old kitten.' Szayel Aporro continued, on the same uncharacteristically hesitant voice. Grimmjow drew a deep breath and shook his head - Stark's scowl melted completely. He looked to the side, meeting the Octava's glance.

'I know that very well,' Stark said, in an oddly kind tone. 'You do not need to make excuses for her, Szayel Aporro. Especially not to me.'

Szayel looked away, pressing his index and middle finger between his eyebrows.

'I am aware of that,' the Octava answered, at long length, 'I just find myself wishing you'd find her demeanor slightly less _useful_.' Stark shrugged apologetically, and Grimmjow shook his head in amusement.

'Boy, and I thought after Nnoitra, she really couldn't go any lower_,_' he said, into the void.

'Grimmjow, you are once again proving as delicately sensitive as a rock.' Stark muttered.

Silence stretched between them once more.

* * *

'I swear, little Quincy, my existence is horribly monotonous sometimes, and you are not helping me at all.'

Ishida looked up, not knowing quite how to interpret the statement.

'You haven't left,' Szayel clarified, arching an ironic eyebrow.

He hadn't. He had been freed, and he had, of course, been tremendously happy, yet, when Ichigo and Rukia had rejoined their group, Ishida had stayed behind. Despite Grimmjow's warning, Stark had gone to find his Fracction, lending no further attention to anyone else. The laboratory was quiet but for the soft, low hum of the fluorescent lighting; a completely exhausted Renji had finally fallen asleep, and even Grimmjow had stopped pacing and settled, probably trying to sleep in his turn.

Was it nighttime? Ishida had wondered, feeling his own eyelids were heavy, but knowing that he would not be able to rest. Of course it was night time. _It is never daytime, in this world._

'It would have been unfair,' he said, softly, repeating the words he had said to Ichigo. 'Renji deserved to go as well. We don't leave our companions behind…'

'Delicious,' Szayel purred. 'Quincy Code?'

Ishida nodded, and Szayel's glance had darkened for a moment – the expression had not been menacing however. It had simply felt as if the Octava had fully retreated behind the walls of his thoughts for long enough to make sense of the affirmation.

'Verona,' he had said, and the Fraccion had bounced to him to quickly that it had needed him to catch it by the top of the head not to trample Ishida. 'Fetch me a pillow,' the Octava ordered, lifting the Fracction by the head and turning it in the correct direction. 'I don't sit on the floor,' he explained, as Ishida frowned questioningly. 'What kind of nutrients do you require?'

The Quincy's frown grew deeper.

'Food, Ishida Uryu,' Szayel academically scolded. 'It occurs to me that you are human and cannot directly feed on reiatsu. And you have been around for a couple of days – I should think you would be hungry by now.'

'Not really,' the archer muttered; his stomach growled, rushing to contradict. 'Anything would work,' he surrendered, to Szayel's grin. Verona returned with a large, white pillow, and hesitated for a second between placing it on the floor and handing it to the Octava. With an impatient sigh, Szayel had yanked the pillow from its hands, and placed it on the floor aside Ishida.

'Get him whatever the last pattern was in the solid food synthesizer,' he ordered, and the Fracction bounced away again.

'Solid food synthesizer? You eat?' Ishida asked, then smirked at Szayel's condescending expression.

'Inoue Orihime eats,' the Octava answered, dispensing with the obvious. He sat on the pillow in a graceful, sensual way, legs folded to the side, and stayed quiet for a few seconds, watching Isane line up her healing stuffs on the floor next to Ulquiorra. The Shinigami was too concentrated on her own movements to notice the glance.

'Stark's _captatio benvolentiae_ campaign is going very well,' Szayel observed, so absently that for a second, Ishida had felt as if the Octava had been addressing the ceiling.

'He keeps his promises,' the Quincy returned, not knowing what else he could have said.

'Oh?' Szayel amusedly inquired, turning to face Ishida and tilting his head to the side. 'Is that what you think he is doing?'

'What else would it be?' Ishida shrugged, in mild irritation, making the Octava sigh in deep disappointment.

'See, you are being predictable again,' the Arrancar said. 'You are looking at it from the wrong angle, Ishida Uryu. It's not that Stark keeps his promises, it's that he only promises things he intends to keep. Why do you think he let _you_ go?'

'He probably does not trust the Shinigami enough to let go of Renji just yet,' the Quincy shrugged.

'That is one possible reason, yes,' Szayel conceded. 'But,' he continued, with a disgustingly sweet smile, 'you are still here. In your stead, Abarai Renji would have darted out the door at the speed of lightning – he has no Quincy Code to abide by, nor is his…I must say, disturbing romantic fixation in a near comatose state. With or without the container, you are as trapped here as you were an hour ago.'

The Octava chuckled.

'That is why he let _you_ go, and not Abarai. Because by letting you go, he didn't truly lose any leverage. You are too easily fooled by pretence of kindness.'

Verona returned with a large tray, placing it on the floor between the two before hastily retreating.

'I am not fooled by your pretence,' Ishida muttered.

'Touché,' the Octava chuckled lightly. 'Perhaps Stark is the one who is more dramatically endowed. You should, nonetheless, eat. You can at least help me settle this curiosity - I have never had the opportunity of asking Inoue Orihime how the synthetic food tastes.'

'Somewhat artificial, obviously', Ishida said, almost unwillingly, after carefully chewing and swallowing a tentative mouthful of noodles. 'But not too bad in overall. In my opinion, you overdid the egg protein and underdid the starch. Or, well, the proportion might be correct,' the Quincy corrected, finally cracking a smile, 'synthetic comalbumine tends to taste stronger than its natural counterpart.'

'Ah! Don't frighten me like that,' Szayel gasped, in a mocking tone, but with a genuinely pleased grin. 'You actually paid attention to chemistry in school.'

'I pay attention to every subject in school,' Ishida returned.

The Octava nodded, quietly, his attention drawn to Isane's hand finally touching Ulquiorra's shoulder. The Cuarta lifted his chin, indifferently glancing at her.

'Your actions are meaningless,' he said, flatly.

'Perhaps they are not,' Isane answered, feeling like a small child before an examiner and wishing that the warmth in his voice could somehow alter his perpetually uniform tone. She could not have seen Szayel's grin behind her; Ishida did, however, and the food suddenly turned harder to swallow.

'He's right, isn't he?' the Quincy asked in a trembling voice, forcing the food down.

Szayel Aporro questioningly glanced at him, then shrugged. The gesture – not a denial, but an admission - had been deprived of the Octava's usual malice.

'What has he done to you? Why do you hate him so much?' the Quincy asked, in a low whisper.

'Hate is a strong word,' Szayel answered, gracefully waving the supposition away. 'I, personally, do not hate Ulquiorra. Neither does Grimmjow. And Stark least of all.'

'Then why this drive…' Ishida frowned.

'Ah, indeed, I forgot,' the Octava chuckled lightly. 'You're a good guy. You left Cirucci alive. I am very sure that is not part of the Quincy code, Ishida Uryu.' The human looked away, and slowly adjusted his glasses, in a gesture that now seemed painfully similar to Szayel's. 'Was she too human to actually kill?' Szayel inquired, arching an eyebrow. 'Didn't she fit the definition of a Hollow from the Quincy Handbook?'

'How fortunate that you were around to complete the job,' Ishida stung back.

'She had served her purpose,' Szayel shrugged. 'I am sure, in the end, I did her a favor. An undeserved favor,' he hissed, looking away, and pressing his lips together in a dangerous, thin line.

Isane's hand slipped over Ulquiorra's skin; she did not touch him, but he cringed nonetheless, as the faint, warm glow passed over the burns.

'You cannot turn me to your side,' he said; one after the other, the wounds receded and closed. 'Your attempt is pointless.'

The Shinigami looked up at him and attempted to smile, her expression only going midway. Although most people would never have imagined it, healing was always a two-sided effort – on part of the healer, but also on the part of the target; life force was indeed, generously provided, but it was the patient's love of life and resolve that rendered it useful. She'd never felt, Isane thought, so much terrible sadness, so much despair…so much indifference towards life and such lack of desire to continue. Or perhaps, the woman remembered, slowly bowing her head to avoid the Arrancar's green, frozen stare, she had felt it before.

Just once.

The familiar sensation brought a knot to her throat. So many different shades of Aizen's treasons, with only one reflection. _So odd,_ Isane thought. _Though they have nothing in common, their pain tastes the same._

'What makes human life easy is its finite quality, Ishida,' Szayel said, softly. Momentarily forgetting to pay obsessive attention to the cleanliness of his uniform, he leaned his shoulders on the wall behind. 'Some, of course, elect to give it a purpose, but even those that choose to live it without any meaning know that the curtain will fall, that sooner or later, the wait will end.'

'Eternity has quite a different flavor to it,' he continued, not paying attention to Ishida's nod. 'If you will, eternity passes _en attendant Godot_…In the end of this play, the door behind the stage is walled, the gun on the mantelpiece is unloaded and the curtain never falls; the characters are always the same, the script is repetitive and the set is, quite honestly, maddeningly small. Even more so if the actors possess a minute trace of intelligence and self awareness – and Aizen cruelly provided that, even to those who were not ready for it yet.'

His voice faded for a moment.

_Like Neliel wasn't._

'Thus,' Szayel reiterated, after coughing to adjust his tone and bring it back to its sensuous, sweet purr, 'since physical subsistence is a given, the definition of being alive changes; eternity cannot be reduced to breathing, eating, and reproducing, it needs to have a meaning to be bearable. Conversely, the absence of meaning implies that even if physical subsistence continues, one is quite dead. Truly dead.'

'Cirucci thought her purpose was to fight and win. She fancied herself Aizen's soldier; poor woman wasn't very adept at philosophy – genuinely,' Szayel chuckled, 'she was a bird brain. When you defeated her, you removed her purpose, and you did kill her, in spite of your dubious generosity. I simply removed her carcass from the stage.'

'Goals can always be redefined,' Ishida refuted, making the Octava chuckle again.

'Of course,' he agreed. 'The ability of reinventing one's existence is, in my opinion what differentiates the true Vasto Lorde from the hastily evolved Adjuchas, and makes me think that, in the end, Grimmjow was far closer to Vasto Lorde than he thought he was. As my _friend _Nnoitra, whom I am sure you would not have liked to meet, went to prove, there's nothing more dangerous than an idea, when it's the only one you have.' Szayel giggled.

'They key to survival is adaptability, understanding that everything is transitory, and that all statues are only erected to be torn down. That's why your friend Lilinette is stuck where she is,' he mused. 'In her mind, she has built Stark a statue many feet high, and he is desperate to keep it from crumbling. Ironically, I think she would equally worship him without the statue.'

'Ulquiorra's fixed idea was that he needed someone else to provide him with a purpose. And he would have continued to worship Aizen as long as Aizen kept his promises and rescued him from feeling meaningless,' he shrugged. 'Or, in the end, simply rescued him.' Szayel Aporro chuckled, as an afterthought.

On the chair next to Isane and Ulquiorra, Grimmjow stirred.

'If you knew how much Ulquiorra despises humans, you'd find this as ironic as I do,' Szayel added, closing his eyes. 'He would make for a great paper on psychology – he'd serve as proof that the only common denominator of everything human, or everything that was once human is atavistic fear and the desire to be saved.'

'That's not true,' Ishida protested with half a voice, then coughed, and reached for the pitcher of milk on the tray, and poured himself a glass.

'Breathlessly awaiting logical argument,' Szayel announced, tilting his head to the side.

'The common denominator is empathy,' the Quincy frowned.

'That is a symptom,' the Octava flatly refuted. 'Why did humans evolve as social animals?'

'Because they were too weak to survive as individuals or family units,' Ishida admitted. 'I fail to see…'

'Meh,' Szayel interrupted, suddenly straightening and beginning to lecture with obvious pleasure. 'There you go – you live in air, you develop lungs; you live in trees, you develop a flexible tail; you live in the dark, you lose your eyesight, but you develop your sense of hearing. You live in a group, you develop empathy. It is as much an adaptation to the environment as everything else. But it is fear that pushed you in the group in the first place, therefore empathy is a symptom of primordial fear.'

'It's an instinct so strong that it always prevails over logic,' he sighed, softly. 'Because in the back of our reptilian brain, we still fear not belonging to a tribe, no matter how small; humans are _wired_ that way. And thus, we spend our time running from one salvation device to another…awaiting to be rescued, healed, completed, by someone, then, something, anything - desperate to prove our worth to anyone who can show us even the most minor, even if feign token of interest. We never recognize that one salvation device after another fails us simply because we don't need them, and, because we instinctually need to avoid standing alone, we chase the next one – if not this religion, this pill, this lover, then another religion, a stronger pill, an even more tragic love affair; more pleasure, and when pleasure is no longer enough, more pain... From cigarettes to wine to cocaine, if you will, to the rush of power of the Hougyaku, we'd annihilate ourselves or numb ourselves into oblivion rather than shed the illusion that strength and comfort must come from outside ourselves.'

He leaned back again, his gaze so distant that Ishida remained silent for a few seconds, wondering if speaking his mind had been wise.

'You're not talking about Ulquiorra. Are you talking about Nel?' he observed at length, and Szayel chuckled.

'You've been watching a bit too attentively, Quincy,' he scolded, without spite. Szayel paused, pursing his lips 'I am talking about both,' the Octava admitted, softly, then looked to the side, signaling the conversation was over.

Finding nothing to add, Ishida looked to Isane as she gently pressed Ulquiorra's shoulders straight, to reach the gash in his stomach. He fought the move with all the strength he had left, but it was not enough to defeat her gentle resolve.

'I do not need your pity,' he slipped, between clenched teeth. The Shinigami looked up, and this time, she had found the strength to smile.

'I don't pity you,' she answered, softly. 'Others might, but I don't. I do not think you deluded, nor do I think you weak. I understand.'

'You understand nothing,' Ulquiorra refuted.

Without minding his tone, Insane focused her powers on his wound. Her words were soft, no louder than a breeze, and she spoke not necessarily to comfort him, but to quiet her own heart.

'For almost a year now,' she began, 'the fourth division has cared for a girl by the name of Hinamori Momo.'

The Cuarta frowned.

'You recall her name,' Isane noted, kindly. 'She was Aizen's vice-captain, and before he truly betrayed us all, he opened his arms to embrace her, and stabbed her in the back as he kissed her forehead. He'd already lied to her and torn her asunder by faking his murder; he had already turned her against the one other person she loved, he'd already erased everything she had ever been before she met him - but she went to his embrace without even the most minor hesitation.'

'We healed her body, as I will heal yours.' Isane continued. 'Yet, most of the fourth division declare themselves powerless in healing her mind. You see,' she whispered, 'even now, Hinamori insists that Aizen could do no wrong. That it is all a misunderstanding, that _he_ is not at fault. Some of them pity her because they think she has gone mad. Others pity her because they think she is too weak-willed to reverse the effects of Kyoka Suigetsu, even though my captain has attempted to remove the illusion time and time again. She has failed, as all of the others have. And they have failed because they've tried to heal the wrong affliction.'

'I've never tried healing her myself,' Isane whispered. 'Because, unlike them, I understand that what is ailing her is beyond my strength. Just as what truly hurts you is beyond my strength.'

'They think Aizen's power lies with Kyoka Suigetsu,' she added, and Ulquiorra looked up, trying his best to keep his features straight and defiant. 'I know better, as I suspect, you do. Aizen's true power, his true insidious power, is making himself loved, inspiring loyalty; Kyoka Suigetsu is the mere shadow of that power. The aftertaste.'

Ulquiorra clenched his fists, but found no strength to protest.

'If I thought love can be fought,' Isane smiled, 'I'd pity you for not resisting. But I don't think that.'

'Even if it was a sign of weakness, you would not be alone. All those who have stood beside Aizen have loved him in one way or another,' she said softly. As if the chair beneath him had suddenly caught fire, Grimmjow had stopped trying to sleep and darted to his feet; for a moment, he'd looked at Isane as if he'd been about to slap her.

'Allergic to the truth, Grimmjow?' Szayel purred, making Ishida gasp.

'Screw you,' the Sexta had spat. 'I ain't never…'

Grimmjow breathed out, as if he had been breathing hot sulphur.

'Screw _this,'_ he exclaimed, then rushed out the door, just in time to hide the fact that his hands had begun to shake.

'Always the transparent fool,' Ulquiorra said, blank glance aimed forward. Slowly, mechanically, his chin turned to the side. 'What did you hope to accomplish, Shinigami?' he asked the darkness. 'What are you hoping to hear? That I loved the source of my power as much as I loved the power itself? That I was _greatful_?'

His face snapped furiously in Isane's direction, and his voice trembled.

'That I too…loved? Too late. Irrelevant.'

Marmoreal eyelids slid shut over emerald pupils, sealing all worlds, all truths, out.

'I hoped that you would understand you could heal of loving him. If you chose to.' Isane responded softly.

'You cannot turn me,' he said, clenching his teeth.

'I am not trying to turn you,' the woman answered, shaking her head in pained denial. 'I was trying to heal…'

'You cannot heal this,' Ulquiorra whispered, finally meeting her glance. 'Foolish woman. Speaking things that should not be spoken. Just like Orihime.'

The Shinigami glanced at him in silence for a few more seconds, then wrapped her instruments and carefully tucked them in her belt. She looked over her shoulder and tentatively smiled to Ishida before following Grimmjow out of the chamber.

'He would have been valuable to us,' Ishida said, at long length. The echo of his words reached Ulquiorra, and the Cuarta glanced up, not towards the Quincy, but to Szayel Aporro. The silent exchange lasted for less than a second – Ulquiorra smirked and looked away.

'He still might,' Szayel purred, curving a strand of his hair between his fingers and distractedly looking at its tip. 'Your Shinigami friend has marvelous insight,' he said amusedly. 'I have never heard a more accurate description of Aizen. I wish I could tell if her compassion was sincere…yet, it is of little importance. She was wrong in one respect, though – Aizen's power can be resisted.'

He breathed deeply.

'Stark never loved Aizen. I suspect he is the only one of us who never loved him at all.'

'What about you, Szayel Aporro?' the Quincy asked, allowing himself an ironic little smile. 'Did you…?'

'Love him?' the Octava completed, arching an eyebrow. 'For about three hours,' he chuckled. 'Until I realized what the rush of the Hougyaku transformation reminded me of. And shooting heroin,' he laughed to Ishida's confused frown, 'didn't save me from myself the first time around.'

* * *

As **very different** end note, Grimmjow, Lilinette and Szayel tell you to cheer for Romania tonight at 17.00 GMT :P Stark says he doesn't really care who you cheer for, as long as it's not Italy :P

Up Next - Lilinette rules the world.


	30. By Proxy

Ah, hello! a pleasure of a chapter for me to write :) The complete absence of Ulquiorra filled me with glee...Though I really did miss Szayel Aporro.

Warnings: Language, language, language. Absence of Ulquiorra.

Chapter 30 - Where Stark can't dodge.

* * *

_Moi je m'appelle Lolita  
Lo ou bien Lola  
Du pareil au même  
Moi je m'appelle Lolita  
Quand je rêve aux loups  
C'est l'autre qui saigne -- Alizee; Moi, Lolita._

_Me, I'm called Lolita,_

_Lo, or Lola,_

_Something along those lines._

_Me, I'm called Lolita,_

_And others bleed _

_When I dream of wolves._

* * *

She did not turn around, although she could definitely feel him approaching. In his turn, Stark did not sit down behind her and embrace her, as he would have liked to. She would have perceived it as patronizing, which was the last thing he wanted, at the moment; instead, he sat down beside her, crossing his legs.

Stark had always loved his silences with Lilinette, just because, admittedly, there had not been many, in the three hundred years since she had become an Adjucha. She was mostly silent a few seconds before she fell asleep, and, he was rarely awake on the occasion; he had still cherished the moments, for the simple pleasure of knowing that neither of them truly needed to speak or act to feel safe by the others' side. Perhaps, he thought, lying on his back and looking up at the cold, crescent moon above, the look of Lilinette's human shape before falling asleep was the only thing he was actually grateful to Aizen for.

She always tried to resist falling asleep, as if the hours of the day had not been long enough for her to think and talk to him about _stuff_ - like trying to get him to tell where Halibel's hollow hole was, what he thought her released form would eventually look like, or if he supposed Aaronierro ever changed the water in his head, if, given his hopping around, Wonderweiss' released form was a giant bunny with bloody claws, or if it would be OK with him if she beat the living daylights out of Mira Rose when she finally grew up. While her voice trailed off, her eyelids descended and were stubbornly jolted up only to descend again, each time a little bit more, until her eye finally closed, and she became silent, and glued her shoulders to his chest, always finding the most uncomfortable angle at which to trap his arm. She slept on the side, with her forearm under her cheek, back slightly arched and knees slightly bent, which made her delicate form look even more delicate. She often smiled in her sleep, but she sometimes whispered and cried; he'd always wake up to hold her tighter when she had bad dreams. Or at least when he imagined she had them, though she never truly spoke about them. Stark suspected she did not truly remember what she dreamt of, which was, perhaps, for the best.

God knew he was thankful for not having any dreams of his own.

'…not smart to be out here,' he yawned, feeling that this particular silence was unlike any of the others, and had begun gathering the cutting consistency of his Hierro. 'Gin's begun moving about.'

'So go back in, if you're afraid,' Lilinette snapped, dryly.

'Quit jerking my chain,' he said, slowly. 'Now's not the time.'

'Ah, ya, well, now's when I wanna do it, so now's when I'm doin' it. Quit being an omnipotent ass,' she replied. 'Specially since we've seen you're not omnipotent.'

'I told you I cannot beat that thing,' Stark replied; in spite of his best efforts he had sounded apologetic, and Lilinette had smirked. 'I told you, Lilinette, I told you the moment I sensed him.'

'An' Aizen's gonna be different because…' she ironically prompted, lifting her eyebrow and cranking her nose.

'You know very well because of what,' he muttered, rebelliously. 'And you know you don't like it, so don't make me say it.'

She had finally turned, and the concentration of her reiatsu had felt like a slap. Nonetheless, he noticed, not knowing whether the realization pleased him or frightened him, her voice had been on level. Lilinette knew what he was talking about, and he had expected her to argue Ulquiorra's cause, if for nothing else than setting her own conscience at peace.

'D'ya actually think that eating Ulquiorra is gonna help? Even if you let'em heal him? What?' she spat. 'Ya think I didn't sense that?'

'Can't possibly hurt,' he muttered.

'You're dumb,' she stated, flatly. 'Firstly, you've eaten three quarters of his zanpakutoh just to keep yourself alive against that coo-coo Shinigami guy. That means there ain't much reiatsu left there, and even if there was, it's not a fucking clip-on. It's gonna take weeks for you to get over the pain, assimilate it and be able to use it properly.'

'We don't know that. It's on a case by case basis.' Stark began to pointlessly protest.

'Ya we do know,' Lilinette sneered. 'It's always been like that _before. _With every other Vasto Lorde you've ever consumed – not with the shit Adjuchas, cuz they don't have enough willpower to put up with you, but the Vasto Lorde are different. You've had to fight to subdue each and every one of them, Stark, and it's never been easy and it's never been pretty. I've been around for most of them, you ain't foolin' me. You can fool the rest of them, but you ain't foolin' me.'

'Ulquiorra's gonna give you the mother of all fucking indigestions,' she muttered. 'He's gonna hurt. An' I swear to God that if you get tear trails, even if it's just for a week, I'm gonna turn your balls into tonsils and give you something to really cry about…An' that's generously supposing you're even still able to evolve!'

Stark pursed his lips, keeping his gaze stubbornly fixated on the moon.

'There's room,' he answered, slowly.

'Don't fucking blame me for that!' Lilinette muttered. 'I didn't ask you to feed your reiatsu to that blasted gem, on the contrary, I remember I was very irked…You could've bloody waited!'

'Maybe now, that we all have the transformation through Aizen's reiatsu in common, assimilation will be easier,' he said, in a conciliatory tone. He didn't even fool himself.

'That brings me to the second point,' Lilinette grunted. 'How you plannin' to eat him? He's more human now than any of the others ever were. You gonna ask Szayel Aporro to slice him? You gonna roll him up and bite him?'

'If there was fresh garlic on hand, I would,' he shrugged, making her scowl furiously. 'Well, if you're going to be gross, I'm going to be gross,' Stark sighed. 'Don't ask pointless questions.' He ungloved his right hand, and lifted it before his eyes to watch the slow dance of the spirit particles around his fingers.

_What a way to use this…_he distractedly thought. _Least intended of its purposes._

Lilinette looked away again, soft tresses swaying gently in the breeze.

'It's not gonna work,' she said.

'It has been known to,' he tried to joke; the glance Lilinette threw over her shoulder was not in the least amused.

'I ain't talking 'bout that,' the Fraccion said, and Stark knew she wasn't. 'You're not gonna get strong enough to face Aizen head-on, and if you can't blind side him, the _whole thing_ ain't gonna work.'

He sat up, looking straight ahead.

'It might,' he said, tensing his lower jaw, and desperately hoping that she would turn to face him.

'Yeh,' Lilinette said, dryly. 'Sure. And we're hanging with our friends the Shinigami because you're bursting outta your skin with confidence.'

'Is that why you're this angry at me?' he asked, pressing his palm to his forehead. 'I explained why this needed to be…'

This time she did turn to face him, eye narrowed and lips pressed furiously together.

'No,' she spat, 'that ain't it. I am angry at you for lying to me, and you bloody well know it. I know,' Lilinette hissed, 'how much you hate them. And I know that you would not be doing this if you thought we could win. Which you don't. Cuz now he is watching, and you can't sneak up behind him anymore.'

'Yes, well, that was slightly out of my control, Lilinette.' He muttered. 'Trust me, I liked my original plan better.'

'But you're still not gonna let me help you,' she frowned. 'You'd still rather ally with the Shinigami then let _me_ help you.'

He inched forward.

'You have already helped,' Stark said, softly. 'You and Grimmjow got Ulquiorra, _you_ really got Ulquiorra. You did very well.'

_Maybe too well. _

'And I could do a lot more. You always said that I'll grow up when I wanted to. Well, now, I really want it. Or was that a lie too?' she hissed. 'Just like the ones you told about loving Halibel and protecting Nellie? Will I only grow up when you want me to? When you choose to let me?'

'That's unfair,' he growled.

'It _is_ fucking unfair and you fucking know it,' Lilinette responded. 'Especially now that you really do need me. What do you think I'm gonna do, huh? Sit on the side and watch you get killed?'

'Don't be silly,' Stark laughed. 'It's not that bad – even if they are a bit stronger, they're also a bit fewer.' He put his glove back on and reached for her shoulder; she did not pull away as he had feared, but she did not slink closer.

'You are a shitty liar,' Lilinette whispered, not minding him. 'And whatever you're lying to me about is gotta be big, else you'd let Szayel Aporro grow me…'

'Grow you?' he unwillingly snickered. 'He cannot grow you! You're not a house plant.'

'He can do whatever the hell he did to Nellie,' she smirked. 'Or he could just tell me whatever it is that you don't want me to hear,' She shot, without letting him recover, 'and then I'll remember everything, and grow up all on my own.'

Lilinette fully turned towards him, desperately drawing close just as he had instinctively begun to pull away. She ran her arm up his until she reached his shoulder, her rounded features so close that he could not resist caressing her cheek.

'D'ya think I can't feel how scared you are?' she breathed. 'I haven't ever felt you scared, but now you are, and so am I. I haven't seen you defeated in two hundred years, either.' Stark sighed, his fingers sliding from her face to the back of her neck, and pulling her closer. 'It won't even matter that Aizen doesn't have as much reiatsu as the other cooky Shinigami, it's the fault of your reiatsu sensing abilities. They're too fine, always have been, you can tell shit moving from ten miles away – now, you fought the loony right under the sky, Aizen's seen that if he charges at you with enough reiatsu, he'll paralyze you completely…He's seen how to beat you without even getting close.'

He swallowed dry, and closed his eyes, wishing she would not continue.

'I won't be angry at you,' she pleaded. 'Whatever it is, Stark. I won't be, I promise. And even if I do get angry, I'll kick you in random places and get over it. Sooner or later.'

_Or not at all. _

The thought strayed though his mind, slithering in before he could do anything to stop it.

'Just please, let _me_ help you, don't fucking rely on everyone else but me,' Lilinette whispered. 'I beat Yammy…' she added, as a final argument, and despite of the fact that he felt all his blood had frozen in his veins, Stark chuckled.

'I saw,' he answered. 'I was very proud.'

'And I even cut Ulquiorra…'

He frowned, disbelievingly.

'…uh,' she muttered looking up, and frowning a little in her turn. 'Once.'

'But you didn't kill Yammy,' Stark answered, finally finding his resolve. 'You took away his resurrection, but you didn't kill him. He was still standing when I came.'

'Yeh, well, was slightly busy with Ulquiorra at the time…'

'Let's think this through,' he said, forcing her a few inches away from his chest. 'If dealing with Ulquiorra distracted you from killing Yammy, imagine how distracted you'll get when we are going to have Halibel with the three graces, Barragan with the Frankenstein monster collection, Loly and Menoly, Aizen, Gin and…'

'…fucking Tousen,' Lilinette sighed.

'…fucking Tousen,' Stark sighed in his turn. 'I bet you imagine Loly and Menoly don't really matter.'

'That's cuz they don't,' the girl giggled.

'That would be a mistake,' Stark smirked, sternly glancing at her. 'We don't know what they can do…'

'Aside prancing and cackling, you mean?' Lilinette arched an eyebrow. 'And having automatic, toe-curling…clim…cla…orgasms! every time they mention Aizen's name?'

'Wow, could Grimmjow teach you _more_ disturbing shit?' Stark helplessly muttered.

'Prolly not,' Lilinette responded. 'So, we were imagining Loly and Menoly being useful.' She prompted, cranking her nose to the side.

'Lilinette,' he seriously said. 'Even a Gillian Cero can kill you from behind, if your Hierro is unfocused. If they have nothing _but_ that, they are still dangerous. That's why whatever goes down must stay down – we cannot watch them all, and they won't fight us separately in neat little duels, or go by Kuchiki's rules of engagement.'

'…whatever the fuck those are…' she muttered, rebelliously.

'They're the books that tell you that you don't stab folk in the back and that when the enemy is down, you courteously don't blow their entire torso off with a Cero, Grimmjow style.' Stark grunted. 'Which is, incidentally, exactly what you need to do. And that you cannot do; that's a good reason why you should help, but not take on a main opponent.'

She furiously looked to the side.

'Even if you did achieve an adult body, _now,_' he painstakingly continued, 'and if, per absurdum, you would be able to magically master your full resurrection within the hour, you would still not have mastered enough sadism, or detachment, or rage to finish off injured enemies – and after that, all it takes is for one of them to get up on an elbow and fire a lucky Cero. That aside, coming up to Vasto Lorde wasn't the best day of my life, Lilinette. Actually, it might well have been the worst _month_ of my life. You remember all sorts of things, and most of them are not as easily palatable as you imagine. I was completely lethargic for weeks…'

'Ya, well, some things never change, I guess,' she sneered.

'Har, har, aren't we being humorous,' Stark frowned. 'In any event, now is the worst possible time for you to evolve…'

'But I want it _now,' _she pleaded, entangling her fingers in the chest of his shirt with such strength that the silk threatened to rip.

'It would cripple you,' Stark unrelentingly answered. 'It would cripple the both of us,' he added, in a low whisper.

'I can't bloody believe you!' Lilinette exclaimed, pushing herself away with a swift tension of her Hierro, which, he discovered with something that lied between relief and fear, had grown more solid than before. 'You will say or do whatever shit you can to keep me from getting it!'

'You will get it. In due time and slowly, when you are ready for it.'

'An' when will I be ready? When you think I'm ready? Or will it be just, like, Poof! Vasto Lorde?'

'Also,' Stark continued, biting his lower lip, looking up, and pointedly trying to ignore her words 'if you do grow to Vasto Lorde, Aizen will find you much less believable when you will run to him for safety, when and if things go sour with our little rebellion. Which, incidentally, is,' he breathed, 'exactly what you will do.'

'You fucking nuts?' she exploded; her ankle against his forearm actually hurt this time, and Stark swallowed dry.

'I have a feeling it will be a question of when, and not one of if.' He said, slowly. 'If you are right, and I cannot use Ulquiorra…'

'Bullshit!' Lilinette gasped. 'Utter bullshit!'

She tried to turn away, but his Hierro kept her in place just long enough for his palms to press on her shoulders.

'Listen to me,' he said, softly. 'All of this was only a good idea if you survive it. Do you get that?'

'No,' she snapped, struggling to get free. 'You can't know we'll get beaten yet…'

'You were quite certain of it like five minutes ago…I cannot know for sure, of course.' Stark sighed. 'But, indulge me. We've already seen going in with a single plan didn't really work. We should have two. And the secondary plan is that the moment you feel I'm failing, you run to Aizen-_sama_ with the fires of hell on your heels, and you don't look back, to me or to Grimmjow, to anyone. You don't fucking look back at all.'

Lilinette slapped him; the hit had an almost metallic ring.

'Do you think I could ever do that? What kind of slime am I to you?' she screamed. 'Bloody fucking hell!'

'Lilinette.'

'No,' she hissed, and slapped him again, struggling to free herself from his hands and from his Hierro. The hurtful intention had undeniably been there, now, and he felt his energy ripple.

'You have to promise you'll do it,' he whispered between clenched teeth. 'The moment you feel I'm failing, you need to do it. Because if you promise me that, I'll know we have a back-up and I will be able to concentrate on fighting without worrying whether you will be all right or not. I really don't want to die a heroic death while keeping an eye on you. I need to know that you'll be fine on your own.'

'Retard.' She chuckled, wickedly. 'That's the last thing I would ever do. Turn my back on you and Grimm…Incon…Unfa…Fucking not possible!'

His eyes narrowed dangerously.

'If you want to help me, that is how you need to do it.'

'What if we actually got crushed, and I did that? What if I survived ya? What next, genius? I don't exist without you!' she exclaimed. 'You made me everything I am!'

_Yes_. Stark thought. _That's precisely the point._

'And you think after all I owe you, I'd drop you like a rotten egg? You're the one who cuts his losses, not me,' she breathed. 'I stick with'em.'

That had hurt; she had felt him cringe although his facial expression had remained unchanged.

'I wouldn't exist without you, either, Lilinette. You owe me nothing. And if you ever had owed me anything, you have long repaid it.'

His hands slipped off her shoulders and his Hierro receded; Stark closed his eyes, lying back on the hot sand. The Fraccion let herself drop beside him, no more than half a foot away, but silent and distant as if she had been sitting on another continent.

'Without you nothing would ever make sense – days would come and go, life would come and go, inconsequential and flat,' he whispered. 'What do I know? You're the one with all the answers, Lilinette.' he chuckled, in his turn. 'Maybe I really am a retard. After all, it was you who kicked and screamed me back to life when all I wanted to do was sit down and wait to die under the wheight of all of my memories three centuries ago. And since then, I've only lived through you.'

'I know, I'm sometimes crueler than I need to be and deaf to others' emotions. I'm scheming and lethargic,' he whispered, 'sometimes I underestimate you and I am selfish, and _yes_, I lied to you… only because I could not bear to lose my heart again, and that's what would happen if you came to any harm. I trust you as much as I trust myself. All that I ever feel is borrowed from you, your anxieties, your silliness, your anger, your victories, your energy, make this desert seem in perpetual spring and because of that, I would follow your whim, Lilinette, to any fate, without any reason…'

'But not this whim,' Lilinette interrupted, softly. 'Not now.'

'No,' he answered, his words no louder than the breeze. 'If anything was to happen to you now, who'll lend me their emotions and keep me alive, who'll kick me when I'm being reckless with myself and with others? Who will worry me out of my mind? Worry for me? Who'll fill the void…here,' Stark whispered, swallowing dry to keep his voice on level, as his hand drifted over the Hollow hole in his chest, 'if you get hurt, if you disappear…'

'Or if I grow up, and get transformed into anything else than I am now,' Lilinette echoed, softly. Neither the fact that she was biting her lip nor her clenched fists had helped – irrepressible tears had resounded in her voice.

'You have to promise me, Lilinette,' Stark said not bothering to deny her conclusion, as he never bothered to deny any other unquestionable truth. 'You have to promise me you will turn to Aizen, the very second you feel we're losing.'

'Would that set your mind at ease?' she sneered.

'Yes,' he answered.

'And do you deserve the peace of mind?'

Stark cringed, keeping his eyes tightly shut.

'No, seriously now,' Lilinette laughed, her reiatsu so charged with fury that it burned his skin. 'After you lied to my face, after you made Grimmjow cover your ass, and after you robbed Szayel Aporro of his peace of mind just to twist his arm into keeping quiet, d'ya think you deserve it?'

'Everything that I have told you today is true,' Stark said, blankly. 'If you evolved to Vasto Lorde in the next five minutes, you'd be crippled for months…'

'Do you deserve it?' she breathed. He opened her eyes, to look into hers, finding no mercy.

'No,' Stark surrendered.

'Then, there's your answer.'

She'd vanished before the echo of her whisper had dissipated over the sands.

* * *

Up next - Ishida has a brilliant idea. And then there's dinner.


	31. Full Circle

Good evening :) I hope you will enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. It's rare that I have the opportunity of playing with all of my kids all at once. :) Thank you all for reading and commenting, your strength gives me strength. Vampire, I apologise for not forwarding this to you - this chapter has been set in my head for a long time, and I dare hope you will enjoy it :)

Ishida has no bright ideas - Ulquiorra took over the stage.

Warnings: Eh, Ulquiorra fans, get out your handkerchiefs. This time it's truly over. Also, language.

Chapter 31 - Where Ulquiorra dies, with no Conan in sight.

* * *

Ulquiorra looked up and around himself, recognizing the smell and odd vibrations of the cavern long before his eyes distinguished any rugged contour from the surrounding darkness. The chamber was tall, and bore the distinctive impression of a natural cave – it might have easily been mistaken for one, had it not been for the too perfect precision of the two rings of rock that surrounded its center, one six feet tall, and the other six feet above it, and for the domed ceiling above. The ceiling had nothing of the floor's rugged appearance – smooth, dark marble, illuminated by silver veins stretched above, creating the eerie impression of a night sky being torn apart by intrepid claws of sunlight.

The reflection of a Garganta, in perfect photographic negative.

The tall, newly added white throne stood in such stark contrast to the dark rock that surrounded it from all sides that it seemed splendidly luminescent; it had been placed in such a way that, just like a space enhancing mirror, it caught the few faint strands of moonlight that trickled in though the arched entrance.

God, of course, had perfect architectural vision.

'Do you remember this room, master Schiffer?'

Ulquiorra did not respond.

'I do,' Stark said, lazily.

He let go of Ulquiorra's shoulder, a casual gesture that was deprived of all victorious arrogance or despise, letting the Cuarta stand at the center of the two rings, facing the resplendent throne. In turn, Stark sat to the side, on the first ledge, leaning his bent shoulders against the wall and crossing his legs. Eyes habitually half closed, he rested his chin on his palm and his left elbow on his knee, and gazed blankly ahead, towards the throne.

_Not fearful. Not even curious. Irreverent. Disrespectful._

Just like the first time around. Indeed, Ulquiorra remembered as well.

Aizen had begun gathering the Vasto Lorde long before he had taken actual possession of the Hougyaku – he had only started with the foolish, power-hungry Adjucas at his side, of course; some had probably joined because they had thought the war would provide them with ample supplies of food, and prevent their regression, others, perhaps out of fear of becoming the food, and all too few because of a misguided desire for glory. Predictably wary of the Shinigami intrusion, the Vasto Lorde that had not attacked him head-on had hidden away in their lairs, disguising their reiatsu and waiting to weather the uninvited storm. Most of those who had gathered their Adjucha contingents and gone against Aizen had perished quickly. A few had continued to fight, a few had run into hiding; only one had immediately recognized the Shinigami's superiority and bowed before the truth the others were still blind to.

The war had lasted for the better part of two decades. Aizen had come and gone, leaving Ulquiorra to wage battle in his wake. Thousands of Hollows had perished, making the survivors stronger; some of the Adjuchas had evolved, finding their final shape.

_Nnoitra._

They had wasted no time in taking revenge on enemies they previously could not reach, their hunger as driving as their rage and long buried frustration. They had been effective in finding even the Vasto Lorde that had gone into hiding – the weak, barely evolved ones, the young ones who had no territory and no army; Aizen had not bothered preserving those who had not survived the Adjucas. But some of them had. Aizen had acknowledged their merits, and they had joined him without hesitation. _Dordonii. Gantenbainne._

Halibel had suddenly turned, one day. Not truly a surrender, not even an admission of defeat, for she had not truly fought, and she had not truly hidden – she had simply watched from the height of her tower; Aizen had stopped Ulquiorra from entering her territory, and gone in alone. He had walked out, slowly, with his head bowed, and his kind, wise smile imprinted on his flawless features. Halibel had followed, matching his stride.

Barragan, who had fought from the first hour, had yielded soon after, to superior numbers and superior logic; he had walked up to Aizen of his own accord. He had simply kneeled and deposed his shield in quiet dignity; instead of claiming his head, the Shinigami had bowed deeply in his turn.

'I am honored to have matched such a proud warrior,' Aizen had said. He had then kneeled and picked up the elderly Hollow's shield, wincing slightly at its wheight as he offered it back. 'Please,' he had said. 'Be at ease.'

The news of his surrender and acceptance into Aizen's folds had spread like wildfire and served its goal. Cirucci Thunderwitch had laid down her weapons within a few hours.

She had been the first to swear allegiance in this chamber, when the numbers of Aizen's followers had justified the existence of a throne room, and in a time when Las Noches itself consisted of nothing more than a few of tall, reddish pillars poking irreverently into the dark sky. With her turning, the Shinigami's group had finally achieved critical mass and the first part of the war had been over; Aizen had no longer needed to impress anyone into submission, since, from far and wide, both Vasto Lorde and Adjuchas had flooded to him, eager to join the rising new order.

And Aizen had accepted them all, filling the ragged stone stalls around him, and indifferently watching as they did battle for the honor of being in his presence. Ulquiorra's spot, at God's right hand side, had never been challenged, and none of the Vasto Lorde who had joined had been too inconvenienced by the challenges they had received in their turn. The Adjucas, however, had battled it out long and hard. Soon, the rules of the world had changed - it had become apparent that sitting in the circle meant one would, eventually, evolve, and that sitting outside of the circle meant certain death or regression. No battle had ever broken out inside the circle, under God's eyes, but the fields outside the circular walls had been blackened with blood, their silence shredded by growls and cries. Aizen had never made any selection of the strongest; he had let them sort themselves out.

'I do hope you remember, Ulquiorra,' Stark yawned. 'You brought him here, after you betrayed us all.'

The Cuarta looked up at the empty throne.

'Did it not sadden you that all along, he had been waiting for me?'

'But you came,' Ulquiorra responded, voice vibrating with satisfaction. 'We left you no choice, and you came.'

He had, a full year before Aizen had obtained the Hougyaku. Stark's presence had rendered the killing fields silent, Adjuchas fleeing before him and darting across sky and sand to make themselves safe. A few young, impertinent ones had stayed to watch him drifting into the circle. He had not minded them – their kind, was, after all, the kind that blindly stumbled across the boundaries of his hunting territory, taking the absence of an army for a sign of weakness, perhaps thinking this Vasto Lorde, with his seemingly perpetual hibernation, was naught but a legend and thus walking to their death.

The writhing and snarling in the stalls had stopped as well. The chamber had grown darker, leaving only the throne to shine. Stark had stood at the center of the lowest circle, looking up with half lidded eyes – a shadow, not of darkness, but of blinding light extended behind him.

'I see you are making good use of my lair,' he had said to Aizen. The Shinigami had nodded, slowly, and Stark's shadow had danced impatiently, circling him and sweeping over the stone as the line of light of an ancient sundial. 'Albeit, it is slightly more crowded than usual,' Stark had remarked, glancing lazily around.

Aizen had nodded again, gracefully leaning his cheek on his folded fingers, and Stark had looked at the floor, to the shadow that had stopped circling him and extended to the side, emitting painful flickers of light. He'd shrugged.

The shadow had risen from the floor, detaching itself from his contours – it had darted towards the stalls, exploding in width and intensity, and growing into a translucent sheet. The wiser Adjuchas had scattered. Those who had not been fast enough in getting out of its way had shrieked and bled at contact with the edges of the glowing net. One, a rounded, slow creature, with long, blackened fangs had been outright swallowed, as the contours of the sheet folded implacably around it. As quickly as it had expanded, the light had shrunk, and slid inside the stone, the eerie projection of a small female human body, standing alone. Pretty, clear laughter had echoed through the cavern.

Stark had slowly drifted to the stall in his turn, not sparing Aizen another glance. He had sat to the side, on the first ledge, not far, but not close to the throne, leaning his bent shoulders against the wall and crossing his legs. Half lidded blue eyes aimed blankly ahead, he'd rested his chin on his palm and his left elbow on his knee – the shade of liquid luminescence had briefly sat beside him, flowing from the wall into an indecisive, all but transparent humanoid shape. The contour, no more than writhing particles of light, had encouragingly leaned its head against Stark's shoulder, briefly, then dissolved inside the cold stone of the ledge, once more becoming his shadow.

With seven Vasto Lorde at his side, Aizen had found the time had come – he had gone back into Soul Society, and not appeared again for months.

_I leave the circle to you, Ulquiorra._

The sound of the pronouncement echoed in the Cuarta's skull, as if it had been recorded in the recesses of the ragged rock edges.

'You know, master Schiffer,' Stark said, arching an eyebrow and correctly intuiting what Ulquiorra had been remembering, 'on that one occasion Lilinette bet that you would try out the throne in his absence. Truth be told, when you didn't, I realized you had lost all your ambitions, or that you had invested them all into Aizen. Either way, that you were screwed.'

The Cuarta looked to the side, with narrowed eyes.

'I was unworthy,' he said, blankly.

'You still are,' Stark returned, with a minute shrug.

Las Noches had grown out of the sands at amazing speed, a giant blot of fake humanity over the savage desert. Under Tousen's supervision, the dome had stretched to cover the stubs and pillars, but it had not acquired its sun until Aizen had finally returned, carrying the gem. The transformations had begun; more than half of them had taken place in this very chamber, when the existence of the other throne room was naught but a whispered rumor. It was said that Aizen would reveal the true glory of his world once he had found ten that would match his strength, and be able to rule and control the others. It had happened faster than any of them had imagined. Maybe faster than Aizen himself had hoped.

Stark smiled.

He remembered Grimmjow striding in, tail whipping casually from side to side, the flexible plates that covered his lean, powerful shape covered in fresh blood, and a slice of meat still clinging to his fangs. The Adjucas behind him – the bull, the serpent, the scorpion, the fire giant – had been equally nonchalant. The panther had licked his whiskers and looked to the throne, fluorescent blue eyes glowing in the darkness.

'Make me,' he'd growled; Tousen's arm had darted to his sword, but Aizen had stopped him.

'Why are you worthy of our powers' touch? You did not prove yourself in battle.' he had said, gently, and Grimmjow had roared, making the ceiling tremble, and causing faint dust to rise from the ripped edges of the stalls. He'd pounced to the side before the dust had settled - none of them had had time to stand on guard; he'd sunk his fangs into the throat of one of the newly made Arrancar, tearing the creature asunder before his paws touched the ground. Bloodied claws securely pressed onto his prey's chest, Grimmjow had bared his long canines at the Arrancar's companions – lighting fast, his right paw had swiped forth, tearing the flesh cleanly off the creature's ribs and hurling him to the side, into the awaiting, sharp horns of the creature that would become Illfordt Granz.

'Don't need to,' Grimmjow had growled again, turning towards Aizen and slowly, alternatively, sinking and retracting his claws from the corpse of the Arrancar beneath him. 'Not against these fuckers.'

Aizen had not smiled for him, but then, Grimmjow hadn't needed him to. He'd lain atop the bleeding body, and his posse had joined him on the ledge, as the panther slowly laid his head on his crossed paws. He'd closed his eyes, only reopening them briefly to curiously glance at the sleek, incorporeal entity that danced around him; he'd tentatively bared his right canine, but the shadow had not retreated. Instead, it had pulled on one of his whiskers. He'd clawed at it, through it, as if he had been clawing through water. The shadow had flickered mockingly before him, then swept over his body, in a warm, conciliatory gesture. Deciding to not let himself be aggravated, Grimmjow had again lain his head on his paws, and closed his eyes, allowing the light to drape over his shoulders.

Then, slowly, with every rhythmic exhalation, he'd accepted its presence, and begun to purr.

Grimmjow had not doubted his final shape for a single moment, not even after he had witnessed how only one out ten Adjucas that had lain before the Hougyaku had achieved full human form. He'd patted towards the gem without looking back, and walked away from it standing upright. Sixth made, he had remained sixth through all of the turmoil and movements that had shaped and reshaped the Espada group.

His resilience had not been, Stark had thought, a pure matter of strength. Just like Aaronierro had been given a position far above what his Gillian rank would have warranted because his evolution potential was virtually limitless, Grimmjow had stayed sixth because he was one of only two hybrid types among the lot - more physically powerful than most power types, and not far below spirit types in the control and concentration of his Cero. Only Ulquiorra was the same – and God liked variety.

'He made you last of the first Espada lot,' Stark said, slowly. 'His crowning achievement - just before sunrise.'

Ulquiorra's chin shifted slowly to the side.

'He made you after he had made Lilinette,' the Segunda smiled. 'After I had made Lilinette…And, though I was already weakened, _you_ still fell hopelessly short, master Schiffer. You should have been the Primera.'

'I was the first. I was always the first.' Ulquiorra said, blankly. 'The number was irrelevant.'

Indeed. _What is essential…_

The specter of Cirucci Thunderwitch had floated briefly before Stark's eyes.

Szayel Aporro Granz had not given his strengthened brother time to find him, after Illford had been made. He'd probably realized that he was too weak to face the Adjucha search parties, and he was too young to have had a Hollow colony of his own. He had surfaced when the danger of standing away had become apparent, and kneeled before Aizen, angel-like and lithe, his long eerie wings folded on his shoulder blades.

'I do not feel myself worthy of standing in your presence, Aizen-sama,' he'd whispered, his voice resounding with such genuine awe and humility that Stark's skin had crawled with disgust.

'He ain't worth making,' Illfordt had emphatically argued; to the day, Stark had never truly understood if Illfordt's words had been a misguided attempt at protecting his younger sibling, or genuine cruelty and despise. Though now, the Segunda thought, idly turning his head to the side, he supposed the former was far less likely than the latter.

'Is that so?' Aizen had kindly inquired.

Szayel had whimpered, his delicate shoulders cringing in fear, but he had not dared look up. His long, pink tresses, held in place by the released form of his mask, obscured his features completely.

'He's already a Vasto Lorde, but he's weaker than most Adjucas. Even if he gets a complete human form, his reiatsu ain't worth shit. His body ain't worth shit, never was…'

Then Szayel Aporro had looked up at Aizen, pointy chin whipping forward. His reiatsu had indeed been weak, but Stark had felt it nonetheless – insinuating, silky strands suddenly losing their graceful fluidity and snapping solid.

'What is essential,' Szayel Aporro had seductively purred, 'is invisible to the eye.'

Aizen's brows had furrowed slightly, and, in the silence that followed, Cirucci had laughed, throwing her hair back.

'Make him, Aizen-sama,' she had prompted. 'It doesn't matter if he comes out weak. He's pretty – I'll take him as Fraccion. He'll be fun for a while.'

Famous last words. Illfordt had died at Abarai Renji's hands a mere three months later. Within another month, Cirucci herself would be relegated to Privaron, spitting, kicking and screaming, and disbelievingly staring over the shoulders of the Exequias as the pretty one, the pretty, weak one, gracefully slipped his sensual, androgynous body in her seat around the oval table. To complete the Espada, and, after three rounds of weeding out those who were too weak or too foolishly kind to survive, put the final touch the greater picture of God's twelve disciples. Aizen's war against Hueco Mundo had been won, and his war against all other worlds could finally begin.

'Were you expecting to entice regret, by bringing me here?' Ulquiorra asked in an indifferent tone. 'If you did, you have failed; you have given me nothing but memories of triumph. I claimed my victory over all of you in this chamber, Stark. In your lair, that Aizen-sama claimed as his own.'

'I don't believe you are more capable of regret than any of us,' Stark refuted briefly. 'I just wanted things to come full circle. Looking back always clears one's perspective on what lies ahead.'

He remained silent for a moment.

'You were such a beautiful, unrepentant creature, Ulquiorra.' Stark continued, his voice dripping irony. He vanished and reappeared in front of the Cuarta; Ulquiorra's lower jaw finally tensed. 'It's good that at least you kept that.'

'I was chaos,' the Cuarta responded. 'I was disorder. I was meaningless. We were all meaningless.'

'You were complete.' Stark contradicted, shaking his head. 'He took away half of you when he took half of your mask. I'll never understand what it was that he gave you in return. But then, it hardly matters…' He added, with a minute shrug.

'He kept my secrets,' Ulquiorra answered, dryly. Still, the dark corners of his thin lips had stretched in cruel amusement. 'He gave me yours, war traitor…betrayer of kin. I know what you've done, Stark, I know what all of you have done. That is why,' he said softly, 'he made me last. Because he knew that my _true_ sight would give me what the Hougyaku found, in all of your pathetic minds and in your patched souls.'

'It did not matter that my reiatsu placed me fourth,' he sneered. 'It was not my strength, but your weaknesses that would raise me above you all, in the end, when Aizen-sama found me ready of becoming your master.'

_I leave the circle to you, Ulquiorra…_Stark thought. _So that's what it was. That was what he promised you._

'Nice play, for a good goal, then. No less than Hueco Mundo,' the Segunda whistled, in actual surprise. He chuckled lightly, looking at Ulquiorra and shaking his head. 'Having the prize so close in sight must make defeat all the more bitter…'

'Don't you dare,' Ulquiorra snapped. 'Don't you dare pity me. I may have lost, Stark, but you will never…'

…_win, _he might have said, had he had time. With an implacably fast gesture, Stark twisted Ulquiorra's chin to the side. The bone cracked, dryly, and when Stark let go of the Cuarta's half helmet, leaving his frail shape to fall to the floor, Ulquiorra's head had bobbed limply to the opposite side, still open green eyes staring into nothingness, vacant and blank. In death, as in life.

Stark looked down, lazily scratching the back of his head, then slowly lowered himself on one knee, removing his glove in the process. Still, as the first particles of reiatsu had begun to lift away from the Cuarta's corpse, he'd changed his mind and put his glove back on. He glanced at Ulquiorra, pursing his lips in hesitation for a few more seconds, then drew his sword and carefully maneuvered it to loosen the Cuarta's left eye out of its socket. Stark effortlessly lifted Ulquiorra's shoulder, and the rounded, marble cold eye rolled easily into his palm as dark tresses fell over the pale and cold features.

_True sight._

He crushed the orb between his thumb and index; it scattered into thin glittering mist, invading Stark's senses. The passage of time, the smell of the chamber and the stone beneath his feet became unreal and fragile, and by the time when he realized how devastating Ulquiorra's true sight was without the Cuarta's consciousness filtering the information, it had already been too late. Losing his balance, the Segunda had pressed his palm on the ground and frowned, in deep pain at the other's concentrated memories and sensations…emotions? Stark fleetingly thought as Inoue Orihime's fingers burned his cheek, and the smell of her hair, carried by the swiftness of her gesture, invaded his lungs, creeping over his skin. The memories of her were far more present, far more tangible than the memories of Aizen – in fact, the former seemed to be slowly forcing the latter to recede, as shadows receded before the passage of the sun.

It did not matter; not really, or at least, not anymore. Even the receding shadow had plenty of secrets to tell.

Stark had straightened.

'I think you were mistaken in saying that I will not win, master Schiffer,' he said, to no one in particular. He slowly, casually removed his glove. 'I am bloody well going to.'

Ichigo arrived minutes later, but the haste of his Shumpo, which had made him pitifully out of breath, had served no goal. He had simply been in time to see the empty shell of the Cuarta's uniform slowly flatten on the floor, as the body beneath the delicate ebb of silk withered and waned.

'You…' Ichigo breathed.

Stark had not given the substitute Shinigami the courtesy of minding his presence until the very last particle of greenish reiatsu had drifted upwards from the place where Ulquiorra had lain, and melded into the palm of his hand. Shocked by the sight, Ichigo had remained frozen in place as well. It was only after the Cuarta's mask too had melted away, like a piece of chalk submerged in water, that Stark had lazily turned his head towards Ichigo.

'You…' the boy repeated, finding his words were lodged chokingly in his throat.

'How did you find me?' Stark asked, kindly. 'Ah,' he shrugged, as Neliel Tu materialized beside the Shinigami, and the answer became obvious. 'You should know better, Nellie,' he sighed, at the woman's pained features. 'Did Szayel Aporro kindly point you in this direction?'

'No,' the former Tercera shakily responded. 'I…I just saw that Ulquiorra was gone and I understood…'

…_that you lied to me._

'…where you would go,' she had completed, swallowing dry.

Stark cringed, his shoulders crooking even further.

'You bastard!' Ichigo exploded.

'I'd get away from me right now, kid,' the Segunda answered, pressing his forearm over his stomach. Uncaring for the arm that Neliel extended to block his path, Ichigo darted forward, Zangetsu gleaming at his side.

'Bastard!' he shouted. 'Liar! You let us think…'

Neliel Tu darted forth in her turn, but it was not her grasp to stop Ichigo from reaching Stark's, as the Segunda painfully shrunk to one knee. Nor was it Stark's Hierro, oddly frail and breakable – furiously fast, Lilinette's unsheathed blade had barred Zangetsu's edge.

'Fuck off,' the girl hissed, her tiny iron claw gleaming menacingly, and easily brushing the wide blade aside. She vanished, reappearing a foot behind, her shadow protectively stretching over Stark.

'That's why you let Isane heal him! So you'd have more!' the substitute Shinigami spat, his arm hanging wide in indecision as he tried to look beyond the Fraccion that decisively blocked his path.

'Fuck…off,' Lilinette repeated. 'Leave us alone.'

She worriedly looked over her shoulder to Stark, who'd leaned his forehead on his knee.

In his turn, torn between fury and frustration, Ichigo swallowed dry, and allowed Neliel enough time to wrap her fingers on his wrist. He barely noticed, his glance locked onto the sekki shackles that the blow of Lilinette's Sonido had knocked flat. He shook his head, in utter incomprehension.

'You didn't even untie him before you killed him,' he whispered. 'You simply killed him, with his hands still bound…Coward…'

As if the word been a physical blow, Stark cringed even further.

'Untie him?' Lilinette laughed in the Espada's stead. 'What kind of retard are you, Shinigami? What do you think this is? A fucking maiden's sewing club? Go back to your kind. Leave us,' she snarled, taking a wide step forward, her forearm angled and her claw menacingly raised, 'alone.'

'Let's go, Ichi,' Neliel whispered, pulling him back after drawing a deep, pained breath. 'We are too late.'

'He killed him with his hands tied,' Ichigo whispered. 'Hands bloody tied…'

'Yes,' Neliel answered. 'Let's go.'

She pulled him away, this time employing her full strength, almost yanking his arm out of his shoulder. Still, before he'd been pulled into the distance, Ichigo had had time to catch a glimpse of Lilinette's arms protectively wrapping around her master's shoulders. He had not had time to see that Stark had yielded to the embrace, as his entire body tensed and shivered, every shred of bone and muscle scraped at by a myriad of malevolent reiatsu particles.

'It hurts,' he whimpered against Lilinette's shoulder. 'It fucking hurts.'

'I told you it was going to,' the Fracction responded gently. 'But it's gonna pass.'

'I have him now, Lilinette…' Stark chocked. '_We_ have him…God, it hurts…'

'I love you,' she simply said.

Arms clenched around her shoulders, the former Segunda Espada found no strength to respond. She knew the reciprocal was true, anyway.

* * *

Up next - I wish I had a bloody clue :)


	32. In Between

Hello all - and thank all for reading and commenting :) I am especially grateful to Maidros for putting up with me at odd hours, as usual :)

For all the Szayel fangirls - check out my LJ :) I have picked up a few pictures that I thought were particularly cute and/or kinky, and I think are worth showing :)

Chapter 32 - Where Ichigo has the two minute rage.

* * *

'We need to go get Orihime!' Ichigo exploded, landing so abruptly on the terrace of the eighth tower, that even Yachiru frowned – albeit briefly. 'Like, now! And we need to get Renji outta that jar!'

'You are flustered,' Byakuya remarked.

'As I bloody well should be! We need to get away from these…things,' Ichigo continued, rushing forward. 'I told you it's not a good idea to trust them, Byakuya…'

'Ahem!' Kuchiki meaningfully coughed.

'Don't you ahem me!' the boy grunted. 'The guy that you decided to trust just fucking _ate_ Ulquiorra!'

'Ate?' Yachiru perked, darting from the side and grasping Ichigo's belt with such strength that she almost pulled it loose. 'How'd he eat him? Did he roll him up and bite him?'

'No,' Ichigo muttered, looking down.

'Then he didn't eat him,' Yachiru concluded, with obvious disappointment. 'Cuz you're not really eating things you don't chew – that's why I eat like, nothing, all the time. Though,' she reasoned, wisely. 'I do eat rice cakes.'

She let go of Ichigo's belt.

'I'm hungry, Ken-chan,' she plaintively said; her attention drifted from Ichigo as fast as it had targeted him, and she jumped on Kenpachi's shoulder.

'We aren't going nowhere,' Kenpachi muttered, approaching from behind. 'I've barely had a decent fight since we got here.'

'That's not important, Kenpachi,' Ichigo snapped. 'Look!'

He took a deep breath, obviously trying to still his temper, and inwardly acknowledging that he had no idea why he was so furious. It was, of course the fact that he would have liked to defeat Ulquiorra on his own; not kill him, just defeat him, and perhaps gain some understanding of him, just like he had of Grimmjow…who had not grown dearer to Ichigo, just…more human? The boy thought, with a deep frown.

This was, perhaps, the deepest trace that Orihime had left inside his soul – though, no, Ichigo thought, his scowl growing even more menacing, he was _not_ in love with Inoue. Yet, it had been her to pointedly show him that there was some good buried in everyone, no matter how deeply. She led her entire existence under the premise that there was something to find in everyone, and the fact that he would never have the chance to confirm her belief with Ulquiorra hurt. A little. The fact that the others clearly had nothing human in them hurt even more.

But what was truly disturbing, Ichigo realized, his anger growing with the thought, was that he had been blinded. Simply, blinded – once Grimmjow had let go of Ulquiorra, he had assumed that the Cuarta was reasonably safe, and when the other one had so easily allowed Isane to heal the him, Ichigo had not suspected for a single moment that things would end up the way they did. He'd been stupid, and very easy to fool, and the Arranacar had seen through him as if he had been a piece of glass. If he could do this, if he could so perfectly master deceit on the spot, spontaneously…

'The guy let Isane heal Ulquiorra.' Ichigo began to explain. 'And I really thought he was gonna let him live. Because, why else would he let her heal him? But as soon as we turned around, he killed Ulquiorra without even taking off the sekki shackles, like Ulquiorra was, I don't know, a piece of meat. Do you get me?'

Kuchiki frowned slightly – he clearly understood Ichigo was attempting to communicate something, but the shape of the communication left him hopelessly confused.

'Allow me to reiterate,' Byakuya patiently began. '_The guy_ – I assume, the Second among the Espada – let vice-captain Kotetsu heal Ulquiorra Schiffer, and let you think that this was a gesture of kindness.'

'Ya!' Ichigo responded.

'…when, in fact,' Byakuya continued, icily glaring at the boy to demonstrate he did not appreciate the interruption, 'he only allowed the healing to occur because he wanted Schiffer's reiatsu fully restored before he consumed it.'

'Ya! But that's not the _point!_'

'Dare I inquire what the point _is_?' Kuchiki politely asked.

'Point is, I didn't even feel it coming. The guy just let me turn around and did his own thing – and if he did it with Ulquiorra now, who knows what he's gonna do later? I'm telling you, Bya…captain Kuchiki! This guy's gonna stab us in the back so fast like there's no tomorrow. We need to get Renji outta that jar, and we need to get Inoue, and after that we need to get the hell outta here, and back to the human world while we still can!'

'Kurosaki Ichigo,' Unohana said softly, taking a tiny step forward that made Ichigo draw two feet back. 'Your concerns are clearly fundamented; the actions you describe are clearly not confidence building. Yet,' she added, in the same kind tone, 'you fail to consider two aspects.'

'Uh?' Ichigo rebelliously muttered.

'The first is that our current formation would have allowed us to retrieve your friend, Inoue Orihime, if we were not watched. That is no longer an option; as I, and I hope captain Kuchiki would agree, _this once_,' the captain of the 4th continued, making Ichigo frown at the fact that Kuchiki had actually cringed a bit, 'have no confidence that a rescue mission is still possible at this point, your argumentation leads me to believe we should cut our losses at the present time and withdraw without further action. Is that what you would want?'

'Obviously not!' Ichigo and Rukia exclaimed, at the same time; Byakuya's stern glare turned to his sister, and she blushed, but did not back down.

'If then we are still to retrieve Inoue Orihime, the Arrancar's help is necessary,' Kuchiki completed in Unohana's stead.

'Secondly,' the woman calmly reiterated, 'I would urge you to consider what would happen if we were to withdraw to Soul Society or the human world at the present time. More pointedly, I would ask you to consider how long it would take for Aizen to do away with these four who have clearly defied him.'

'Captain Unohana, that should be the least of our concerns.' Byakuya began, turning towards her in surprise.

'No, Byakuya,' she answered, without looking at him. 'You insisted that you enter Las Noches to find your vice-captain. You have thus spoiled our plans, and I dare assume, their plans of opposing Aizen. Effectively, you have forced the Second among the Espada to reveal his intentions sooner than he might have liked, and expose himself as well as his allies to a very uncertain situation. Their current weak tactical stance is our fault. Hence, turning away is dishonorable, even more so because we have effectively constructed a pact. You, captain Kuchiki, constructed a pact. I would be most _disappointed_ to see you renounce it so quickly.'

'He used Isane…' Ichigo started.

'He didn't use Isane,' Unohana smiled. 'Isane is kind and chose to relieve suffering, if only momentarily. It is her nature, and she followed it; one can only make gifts, but cannot control how the gifts are employed.'

The captain of the 4th glanced to her vice-captain, and Isane nodded, softly. The words had clearly been intended to curve her own disappointment at the outcome, and she accepted them in the spirit in which they had been uttered.

'The life of that Arrancar was not part of our pact,' Byakuya said, at length.

'Was part of my bloody pact!' the human boy muttered. 'You didn't see it, you guys! He snapped Ulquiorra's throat like it was a twig, and then he, like, absorbed _all_ of his body, mask and everything though his palm like, like…'

_Ishida. Just like Ishida._

He did not say the name out loud, choosing to cough and interrupt himself before he ended the sentence.

'They can't be trusted. We need to get Inoue and Renji.' Ichigo stubbornly repeated. 'And then we need to turn around, go home, and let these things eat each other till the end of time! Bloody fucking monsters, all of them!'

Kuchiki's features remained blank. It was Unohana's face, on which the mild trace of scorn looked as punishing as a hundred whiplashes that made Ichigo slowly turn around. He saw Kenpachi's face as he spun around too, and the fact that his wide mouth was crooked to the side was not encouraging either.

'…talking about foot in mouth disease…,' Zaraki carelessly uttered, casually scratching his back with his Zanpakutoh.

Then, he finally saw Neliel, standing but three feet behind him. She was trying to smile, but the corners of her lips were artificially drawn up; innocent pain drifted in the grey depth of her eyes, just as stinging tears floated on their surface.

'You're coming with us, Nel,' Ichigo mumbled.

'To where?' She asked, in a trembling voice.

'To Soul Society, or to the human world, it doesn't matter.'

Neliel remained silent, the corners of her suddenly pale lips no longer drawn upwards, but straight – without warning, Yachiru's little fist descended on the back of Ichigo's skull, with the force of a block of concrete.

'Gee, Ichi-san,' she chirped. 'You're dumb like a rock. What would she do there? Like, anywhere?'

'I didn't mean you,' Ichigo muttered, his glance not shifting away from the Arrancar as he tried to peel Yachiru off the back of his neck.

Neliel tried to smile again, reassuringly shaking her head. She did not wish to take that conversation further and though he suddenly felt wretched and small, Ichigo felt grateful, too – he did not want to dwell on the realization he'd just forced upon himself. Or at least not now. But she was right, and Yachiru was right; Neliel was neither Shinigami, nor human. There was no place for her in either world. Not anywhere, but here.

Ichigo's anger over Ulquiorra's death suddenly faded to nothing; he blushed and stubbornly looked to the side, wishing he had never brought up the subject.

'I'm sorry,' Neliel shrugged. 'I told you I trust him, and you believed me.'

'He lied to you too,' Ichigo answered. 'Not like _you_ planned this.'

It was her turn to look to the side, and in their turn, Byakuya and Unohana Retsu exchanged a telling glance. She had not planned it, both of them thought. But she had not been overly surprised, either – for whatever Ichigo tried to believe, or rather, tried not to consider, she too was an Arrancar, closer to the Hollows than she would ever be to the Shinigami. Perhaps, Byakuya thought, after Unohana had gently lifted her chin to prompt him to look up, it was not bad that Kurosaki had stumbled upon the notion as well, and more importantly, that he had come to realize it on his own. Whatever would happen to the these unnatural Hollows in the wake of Aizen's war, would have to happen to her too. The sooner Ichigo understood it, the lesser heartache he would undergo, in the end.

Abarai Renji's sudden appearance broke the tension; Rukia noticed him first, and darted towards him to plant a kiss on his cheek, right before punching him the stomach and making him double over – within a second, Ulquiorra, just like Neliel, was forgotten, and all but Byakuya and Unohana rushed to Renji's side.

He looked pale, but otherwise fine, and tried to get himself away from Hanatarou's overly eager attentions, as well as from Ichigo's overenthusiastic slap over the shoulder. He could push the latter away and gain some distance from the former, but he could not dodge Rukia's embrace. He did not truly mean to. It was only after the girl's arms had encircled his shoulders in a tight grip that Abarai had looked to Byakuya, and blushed furiously – in normal circumstances, he would not have dared come within a foot of Rukia in his presence, and would certainly be afraid to display any amount of familiarity.

Byakuya had not smiled, though Unohana had – the captain of the 6th met his vice-captain's glance and shrugged expressionlessly, as if saying that the extraordinary circumstances warranted the extraordinary breach of proper conduct. It was only after he turned away from the group of young Shinigami that Byakuya allowed himself a small smile and a sigh of relief.

'You are really happy that he is alright,' Unohana dreamily said to Byakuya.

'Even more so under the present circumstances,' he conceded.

'Would not truly hurt if you actually informed vice-captain Abarai of the fact,' she mildly prompted. 'You did, after all, commit a rather large stupidity in entering Las Noches for his sake. He's bound to know that you worried.'

It hadn't been a reproach, and Byakuya had not taken it for one.

'He knows,' the captain of the 6th answered, and, for a moment, his smile turned mischievous. 'There is no need for me to outright tell him. Besides, if we get too close to the things we admire, we lose our desire to evolve towards them. Do you not find it so, Retsu?'

She had not argued.

'I think this is an invitation to a chat,' Kenpachi said, approaching from the side. Having returned to her regular place on his shoulder, Yachiru nodded in wise accord. 'A cold one and then a hot one,' the captain of the 11th continued, in an unusually thoughtful tone. 'Them punks are smarter than they look.'

'They are,' Unohana nodded. 'I also assume that they are genuinely concerned.'

'Why?' Yachiru chirped.

'I do not think the second in their ranks consumed the fourth just to prove a point. He has done much not to antagonize us, and from the human child's behavior, I gather he made the fact that he wanted the Fourth to survive quite clear. The fact that they now released vice-captain Abarai clearly shows they wish to mend the ill-blood – I doubt they would have recklessly caused it.' The woman thoughtfully answered.

'Maybe he was hungry,' the little girl shrugged.

'I do not think that either,' Unohana laughed a little. 'I think he did so because he genuinely doubts his strength, as well as ours.'

'Oh trust me,' Kenpachi grinned, 'he's strong. I only wish…'

'But he is not Aizen,' Byakuya replied, cutting the other man short; both Kenpachi and Yachiru frowned menacingly, but did not argue. 'I have heard Menos do grow by consuming other Menos; captain Unohana's point seems logical.'

'Naaaah,' Yachiru refuted, her grip on Kenpachi's neck making the large man frown. 'I mean I know Aizen is so and so big and so and so good, but there's like, loads of us. 'And Ken-chan is here.' She added, as the argument to end all arguments. 'No matter how strong Aizen grew in the meanwhile, there's no reason to be scared.'

'Right!' Kenpachi agreed, his vigorous nod making all of his bells rattle.

'Cuz, we're here – Re-chan, and Byakushi, and Ichi, and…'

'Me!' Zaraki completed, ominously. 'And none of them is a weakling either – not even the little mewling one – mind like the devil that one has. There's no reason for them to doubt we'll win.'

'Perhaps he knows something about Aizen that we do not.' Unohana shrugged.

'Or perhaps he is thinking a little further ahead than the battle against Aizen,' Byakuya said, softly, pointedly glancing at Neliel Tu, who had remained motionless and alone, wistfully looking at the group of young Shinigami that gravitated around Renji, but not daring to join them.

Not human; not Shinigami; not Hollow. Belonging nowhere – not even here.

Unohana's features turned stern.

'I am gathering you are sparing the aftermath more than a passing thought, captain Kuchiki,' she said, in an unreadable tone.

'They are unnatural,' Byakuya answered, lifting his frozen blue glance to meet hers. 'Unnatural things upset the balance.'

Unohana frowned so deeply that, Kenpachi himself drew back.

* * *

Szayel Aporro adjusted his glasses and smiled – a little smirk that Ishida could not place as either condescending or simply wicked. . He had not leant Stark too much attention when the Segunda had returned, and barely even protested the inconvenience of releasing Renji. Instead, he had concentrated on his panels as if the lines and numbers that flowed on his screen had been far more interesting than Ulquiorra's disappearance.

Oddly, Szayel's lack of concern had prompted a similarly detached reaction in Ishida; though the Quincy had understood immediately what Ulquiorra's fate would be, and he'd reasoned that he should have felt more threatened by Stark's actions, he'd had to admit that he had not felt as much discomfort as he thought he would. He had, instead focused on Nemu – just as Szayel had predicted Abarai had spared her no more than a quick glance before darting out of the laboratory. Renji's behavior, tough not ill intended, had simply confirmed the fact that Nemu was very close to last on anyone's list of priorities. Ishida's faint attempts at drawing Nemu's attention had yielded some form of result. The vice captain of the 12th division had not really moved, but she had leaned to the side, pressing her shoulder to the cylinder as if his hand could touch it through the glass.

'She actually likes you,' Szayel Aporro observed, tucking his hair behind his ear. As if his voice had physically jolted them both, Ishida and Nemu simultaneously straightened and looked away from each other – the Octava's smile had only grown frighteningly sweeter. Uneager to expose himself to Szayel Aporro's ironic scrutiny, Ishida hoisted himself up and approached the panels. Both Lumina and Verona whimpered in alarm, but Szayel shrugged their concerns away and brought the second seat up from the floor with a dry click.

'That cannot be a programmed trait,' Szayel purred. 'I do not think Kurosutchi Mayuri would ever have willingly…Hm.'

'I _really_ hate that sound,' Ishida sighed.

'What sound?' Szayel frowned in dismay.

'Your 'hm'.' Ishida muttered. 'Every time you utter it, you're thinking of something despicable.'

'Heee,' the Octava giggled, making the Quincy wonder if he hated _that _sound even more. 'I will dismiss your observation and point out that I only say 'hm' when I have a particularly good idea.' His head tilted gracefully to the side. 'I rarely think anything that you would not qualify as despicable,' he beamed, as if he had been delivering the best news in the world. 'I was merely thinking if Nemu's capability for affection is a spill over.'

'How so?' Ishida frowned.

'Well,' Szayel answered, adjusting his glasses, 'there are two ways I could think of that one could obtain the loyalty of a construct. I apply one of them – Lumina and Verona are wired so that they like me and each other. There is a limited set of neural pathways with dedicated connections, and the emotional side of their brain is simplified to the maximum.'

'Much like their looks,' the Quincy muttered, and Szayel shrugged.

'I did not see any need to over-complicate something irrelevant. Unlike Kurosutchi, who clearly went to great lengths to make his gigai physically perfect, I am in no need for a sex toy,' Szayel said, dryly, making Ishida cringe. 'I assume, therefore,' he continued, 'that he bit more than he could chew personality wise as well. Instead of giving her a nice, limited range of emotions, he made her complete and probably thought he was smart enough only to enable her feelings for him. But see, the human brain does not work that way – as long as neural links exist, electric impulses will travel along them; that is why Lumina and Verona are physically limited to liking of me and fear of everything else – two wires, two feelings. I am simply wondering whether the emotional side of Nemu-chan's brain, what you'd romantically call her soul, I guess, bypassed Kurosutchi's conditioning and spilled over. Maybe he worked on a pre-formed gigai, and the thought of a lobotomy didn't occur to him…Or maybe he simply did not know how to remove the parts of her brain that he did not absolutely require,' the Octava snickered, with great satisfaction.

'Is everything circuitry to you?' Ishida smirked.

'I do technology, not magic, Ishida Uryu,' Szayel smiled. 'You do acknowledge,' he added, almost kindly, 'that she is a mass of circuits?'

'She's flesh and blood,' the Quincy protested.

'Biology is technology as well.' Szayel Aporro purred. 'Oh well,' he cheerfully switched subjects, finally taking mercy on the young human, 'you do like her. And you want to help her, don't you?'

His eyes sparkled dangerously.

'Don't be predictable,' Szayel scolded. 'Don't blush and ask me how I know, or even worse, try to deny it. You would not be speaking to me if you did not want to help her. It is most fortunate for Nemu-chan that you do. I doubt anyone else but you and I does.'

'Why do you want to help her?' Ishida frowned, then shuddered at Szayel's wide grin.

'I'd assume it would be obvious,' the Octava sweetly purred. 'I want her out of the jar before we actually begin the fight. It would not bode well for my perfection if I accidentally got killed and came back a prisoner to my own contraption.'

The Quincy's jaws tightened, not with anger, but with pain.

'Then,' Ishida whispered, 'perhaps it would be better if I did not try to help her. You would think twice before using your disgusting ability on her.'

'Indeed.' Szayel Aporro cruelly agreed, 'But if I cannot figure out how she can be repaired after I do use Gabriel, which, as you might guess, I cannot do if she is in there, she _will_ die after I use Gabriel. An interesting conundrum', he concluded, and both fell silent for a while.

For lack of a better occupation, and because he did not wish to give Szayel Aporro any more ammunition by concentrating all of his attention on Nemu, Ishida casually glanced at the screen.

'Why do you use metric system?' he asked, almost in spite of himself, noticing Szayel's sudden scowl.

'Because I wasn't a bloody Brit,' Szayel growled with a mixture of unbridled pride and anger, as if _his_ employment of a different measurement scale would be the ultimate blow to the very weave of human society.

Ishida chuckled, his amusement not fading when Szayel's furious glance turned to him – the Octava's eyes threateningly narrowed for half a second. Then, unexpectedly, the Octava yielded and snickered in his turn.

'I like it better,' he honestly answered. 'I am not inclined to use my brain to make scale conversions on all things, all the time. No particular reason other than laziness, I submit.'

'What are we looking at?' Ishida asked.

'_We_?' Szayel Aporro shot back, arching his perfectly shaped eyebrow.

'Yes,' The Quincy shrugged. 'We are both sitting here, facing your screen – hence, we.'

'Oooh, snappy!' Szayel purred. 'Very well, Ishida Uryu – we are looking for signs of Stark evolving. His reiatsu pattern,' he continued, academically, delicately extending his fingers towards the screen to indicate one of the many lines that ran across it, 'should either see an increase in level or a change in shape. So far neither is occurring. Which, I might add, is exactly…'

'As you predicted,' Ishida sighed.

'Indeed so,' the Arrancar replied, with no little pride. 'Stark has been just as he is for the past century or so, according to…well,' he snickered, 'legend. I was not around for the duration. In that time, he has been known to indulge on two or three Vasto Lorde that tickled his fancy, but he has not grown at all. I think this is his limit, and he can truly evolve no further…'

'Gotta hand it to ya, Szayel, you got some balls snoopin' at a time like this.'

Both turned to stare at Lilinette, who had quietly approached from behind, and looked at them with as much scorn a her childish features could muster.

'So, there's nothing?' she asked, after a long, meaningful silence.

'No,' Szayel muttered.

'Nothing – nothing?' the Fraccion pressed, in obvious disappointment.

'No, Lilinette, the other kind of _nothing_,' the Octava snapped.

'But he's in so much trouble ordering Ulquiorra's reiatsu…' Lilinette continued to protest, and Szayel sighed deeply.

'Yes, I can see that, you excruciatingly dense child,' he answered, pointing at the screen – while Ishida had indeed noticed that Stark's reading had at some point become blurry and oscillated, the point was entirely wasted on Lilinette.

'Huh?' she said, leaning in, with her hands clenched behind her back and narrowing her eye. 'What am I s'posed to see?'

'His pattern has become noisy, but there is no alteration in the fundamental frequency…Why am I even talking to you?' Szayel caught himself, pressing his extended fingers on top of his chest in a demonstrative gesture, clearly intended to show Lilinette's lack of understanding hurt his feelings. 'To put it in language you can grasp, there _ain't fucking nothing_.'

'Well, that ain't fucking good,' Grimmjow growled in his turn; he'd just come in from outside, looking slightly...thoughtful? Ishida noticed, wondering how ill-fitting the expression was on the Sexta's predatory features.

Szayel contented himself on a shrug.

'Perhaps the fact that Ulquiorra is out of combat is the most important result,' he said, softly. 'Stark evolving might have been a boon, but let us be honest, an unexpected one.'

'So we're in the exact same shit we were in before,' Grimmjow muttered.

'Minus Ulquiorra,' Szayel Aporro responded.

'Thank God for small favors,' Stark whispered, entering the room in his turn; the Octava did not bother to hide his satisfaction at the fact that Stark looked paler and his shoulders were even more crooked than usual.

'Experiencing a little malaise?' he asked, clearly enjoying the other's pain. 'Did you never hear the wise evil overlord adage of '_I shall never consume a force field larger than my head'_?'

'You, leave him alone,' Lilinette scoffed, in a cutting commanding tone. 'An' you,' she further commanded, scowling at Stark 'go sit somewhere and stop wobbling about. _Now_ you don't wanna sleep?'

'I do,' Stark sighed. 'But our point with vice-captain Abarai's release was not missed.'

He'd barely finished the phrase, when Kuchiki passed through the door, with Unohana on his trail.

'Yo, punk,' Kenpachi saluted for the entire group, and Stark recoiled as if he'd been punched in the stomach.

* * *

Up next - People pretend to like each other. It's just like Aizen's tea parties. Only, without Aizen.


	33. Best Laid Plans

Evening y'all!

And apologies for the delay. This chapter was particularly hard to write, but now I think I've nailed it - a bit long, but it should read snappily. Thank you all for reading and dropping me a note, I appreciate it very much :) As usual, Maidros, you're priceless :)

Chapter 33 - Where tea is NOT served. Aizen, eat your heart out.

_Gee, Brain...what do you wanna do tonight?_

_Same thing we do every night, Pinky! Try to take over the world!_

_--Pinky and the Brain, Living Classics (Narf)_

Ichigo let himself fall into the chair, glancing furiously about. His obvious bad mood amused Grimmjow, who dropped equally heavily into the chair opposite the human boy. Hands deeply shoved in his pockets, Grimmjow propped one foot on the edge of the table, forcing the delicate arches and rocking the chair back and forth. He said nothing, but kept his amused glance locked on to Ichigo's features, even when Kenpachi and Byakuya sat to either side of the boy.

Kenpachi's spiritual pressure, whirring within the confines of the sekki stone lined chamber, did not lessen Stark's predicament; nonetheless, he sat across the table from Byakuya, leaning his shoulders against the back of the chair, and briefly closing his eyes.

'May I…?' Szayel inquired. His curiosity clearly too great for him to even notice Stark's threatening scowl, the Octava leaned in, looking at a patch of opaquely white skin that had begun to stretch its pinkinsh edges around the Hollow hole in the other man's chest. Szayel's eyes narrowed behind the thick lenses, and Stark sighed.

'It is quite painful, in case you were wondering,' he muttered.

Szayel did not wonder, or at least not on that particular subject; he barely withheld himself from reaching out to touch Stark's chest when the white blot visibly shifted its contours, moving across the Segunda's skin with the speed and fluidity of a jellyfish.

The two men exchanged glances, but no words; straightening and adjusting his glasses, Szayel Aporro moved on, seating himself to Grimmjow's other side. He'd barely had time to settle when Unohana walked in, with Isane two steps behind her. As was her habit, the captain of the 4th had left her zanpakutoh in her lieutenant's care; in the confines of the sekki stone walls, her presence rendered the air pleasant and still, all but erasing the noise of Kenpachi's furious reiatsu. Unwillingly, Stark breathed at ease – she looked to him, the faint trace of a smile drawing the corner of her pale lips up, then glanced away, looking for a still free seat. Without hesitation, she walked past the two Shinigami captains and sat next to Szayel Aporro, on one of the last three empty seats. She nodded in shy greeting towards Szayel Aporro, who bit his lower lip, but stayed remarkably composed. Isane stepped back, standing behind her captain as Renji and Rukia stood behind Kuchiki.

In strong and striking contrast to Unohana's self assurance, Nel hesitantly sat by Ichigo, not looking at him, but staring at the floor. Ishida followed her in, standing in the doorway as if trying to decide whether to enter or not – looking up at him with an unreadable expression, Stark softly tilted his head to the side, in the shape of an invitation. The archer took a step in, but rather than occupy the last empty seat, which stood, lonely and empty, at the head of the table, he leaned his shoulder on the wall, but two feet away from the lit arch of the door.

Lilinette was not as shy. After leaning over Stark's shoulder, to look at the white blot on his chest and give him a reassuring, quick, and by the looks of the Espada, overly tight hug, she darted upwards only to land in the seat at the head of the table. She crossed her legs, grinning wide, and making a small victory sign in Grimmjow's direction. To Ichigo's surprise, the Sexta acknowledged it with a wide grin of his own.

'So, yeah!' Yachiru concluded, towards no one in particular. Rather than clinging to Kenpachi's shoulder, as usual, she was sitting on it, little hands propped to either side of her tiny body and plenty of room to spare. 'Let's talk about stuff. Byakushi swallowed his tongue.'

'Indeed,' Unohana picked up, after a brief, reproachful glance in Kuchiki's direction. She had probably expected him to start the conversation, but the captain of the 6th remained quiet and stern for much more than she thought he should have, his cold attitude doing little to ease the atmosphere in the room. 'Firstly, I would like to express my gratitude at the release of vice-captain Abarai,' she said, softly leaning forward to look at Stark. 'I acknowledge that your gestures of good will so far have by far surpassed ours…'

'An' aside for someone who really wants us to like her, you are…?' Lilinette interrupted briskly.

Unohana chuckled.

'I am Unohana Retsu, with the 4th division of the Gotei,' she answered, letting her white cloak speak of her rank. 'I trust you know the rest of us, and I have heard much talk of you, Arrancar 17, Lilinette.'

'Yeh, yeh,' the Fraccion answered, waving the woman's words away. 'I'm the star of the fucking show.' She added, making Grimmjow huff out a chuckle. 'So, other than demonstrating you're all so fair and magnanimous that you're not gonna do an ad-hoc _judging _session after we've released your red-haired cockroach, what do ya want, Shinigami?'

Kuchiki frowned, both at the unnaturally mature words, and at the poisonous tone in which they had been uttered.

'Not big on polite exchanges, are you, Lilinette?' Szayel Aporro purred.

'No,' she shrugged. 'Next thing ya know, they're gonna want tea, and after that, they're gonna move in here forever. Just like the others. So let's make this quick an' snappy. The sooner we come up with a bloody plan, the sooner we can kick ass and the sooner they'll be out of here to roam free and wild on the fields of righteousness.'

'Well said!' Kenpachi growled, clenching a victorious fist. 'I like her,' he added towards Yachiru, who nodded rapidly. 'She's decisive.'

'Trust me,' Stark muttered, hiding his forehead in his palm as if even the mild fluorescent lighting had been too painful to bear. 'You haven't seen anything yet.'

'Heavy dinner?' Ichigo shot, not bothering to disguise his anger. Stark did not answer – he simply and unapologetically glanced up, looking at the human boy in open curiosity, as if he had seen him for the first time.

'Can it, human.' Lilinette cuttingly intervened, not missing the exchange, and smirking horribly in Ichigo's direction. 'What did ya say ya wanted, Shinigami?' she asked again.

'With vice-captain Abarai in our midst, we are sufficiently strong and would like to at least attempt to fulfill our secondary mission.' Kuchiki spoke, at length.

'Which was, if I may inquire?' Szayel asked.

'Retrieving Inoue Orihime and returning her to the Court of Pure Souls,' Unohana answered, in Byakuya's stead. 'We seek to get as many innocents out of the way of this conflict as possible, before it truly begins to unfold.'

'But in order to do that, we require information about the environment,' Kuchiki continued, naturally picking the sentence up. 'At the moment, our foremost curiosity lies in the fact that Aizen has failed to make any movement, although he must be aware of our presence. As he obviously is aware of your treachery.'

'He is such an _adorable_ creature.' Szayel gasped, pressing his long fingers on his chest. 'I find it particularly charming when he picks emotionally neutral words just to spare our feelings. Do you not think so, Grimmjow?'

'Yeh, dude, let's keep it light on the insults,' Grimmjow growled.

'Whether we refer to it as a desertion or a change in allegiances' Kuchiki responded, flatly, 'he is aware of it.'

'By the good graces of captain Kenpachi, here,' Stark said, aiming a hateful glance up.

'Naaa,' Yachiru refuted. 'Ken-chan didn't think of that. Did you, Ken-chan?'

'Nope,' Kenpachi shrugged innocently.

'I am willing to wager the thought was not far from captain Kuchiki's mind, though,' the Segunda answered.

'Nonetheless,' Byakuya replied, his blue eyes narrowing ever so slightly, 'In spite of the fact that he is aware of all the circumstances, and in spite of the fact that he has lost one who reputedly was one of his strongest allies, Aizen has not acted. We find this concerning on many levels.'

'You shouldn't,' Grimmjow shrugged. 'Or at least, not for the next few hours.' He explained, with a wolfish smile. 'Ol'Ulquiorra was the bloody advantage, here – I reckon, Aizen thought he'd either get you to kill Stark, or survive and return – don't think he was counting on this end to the saga. With him gone, Aizen is a hair behind us in terms of strength, though he's still far better off in numbers. An' our position takes care of that.'

'How so?' Unohana inquired.

'Cuz the whole of Castle Doom is a death trap,' Grimmjow responded, depriving the Octava of the satisfaction of uttering the words himself. 'The corridors are a maze, the walls are bloody unbreakable, and when they are not unbreakable, they eat up your reiatsu. Now, Szayel's toys don't work shit on Aizen, but they'd work on most of his troop and certainly on the pitiful unranked Numeros.'

'Please feel at ease,' Szayel purred, leaning back. 'He will not attack us here; though he still has more than decent odds of winning, he will not chance too severe setbacks – he can not afford to lose either Halibel or Barragan now, after he irresponsibly lost Ulquiorra. This, however, means little for our future course of action; it simply buys us enough time to think it through. If you please, captain Kuchiki,' the Octava sweetly continued, 'I would most appreciate it if you shared some information of your own.'

Byakuya raised his chin.

'Are we absolutely certain that no Gotei reinforcements are forthcoming? Think!' he prompted, cutting off Kuchiki's response with a swift hand gesture, 'before you answer. A negative reply,' Szayel continued, honey filled eyes narrowed behind thick lenses, 'would go a long way in making my faint heart feel an overwhelming sentiment of relief.'

'I can neither confirm…'

'…nor deny that fucking assumption,' Grimmjow muttered. 'Yeh, we've heard that before.'

'We dared hope the release of your impressively intelligent vice-captain would make you slightly more decisive, captain Kuchiki,' Szayel sighed. 'For, you see,' he said, sensuously leaning forward and knitting his fingers on the table. 'while inside the tower we are perfectly safe, I cannot vouch for the exterior. More than half of Las Noches is out of my field of vision, and the few sensors I have that are still functional are spying on a very empty third and first tower.'

'Is this a reason for concern?' Unohana asked.

'Duh,' Lilinette fidgeted, at the head of the table. 'What do ya think, lady? That means Halibel and Barragan are moving about…'

'What about Orihime?' Ichigo interrupted, impatiently. 'Can you see where she is?'

'Why would I be watching over Inoue Orihime?' Szayel asked, in honest amazement. 'That was Ulquiorra's fetish. I have no idea where she is, nor do I particularly care about her whereabouts. Let us focus on the essential…'

'There's nothing more essential than Orihime,' the human boy spat.

'Yeah, well, we all have our own limited perspective on the world, dude.' Grimmjow muttered, with a look that spread midway between confusion and disgust. 'Listen, Kurosaki,' he sighed, surrendering to Ichigo's scowl. 'I like your one track mind – but, honestly, the worse thing we could do now is go find your chick. I'm sure Aizen is keeping her very close to his heart.'

'Grimmjow has a good point. The fact that Halibel and Barragan are not in their towers signifies that Aizen acknowledges our concentration of forces,' Stark said, in a faint voice. 'In my honest opinion, he has all of them in or around the throne room.'

'How many of them?' Byakuya asked.

'Two Espada, nine Fracciones, and a vast number of lower Arrancar.' Szayel responded. 'However, lower Arrancar is a very imprecise term. Quite a few of them are distinctly strong; after all, as vice-captain Abarai might recall,' he added, aiming a meaningful, derisive glance at Renji, 'Arrancar 11 forced him into a fully released Bankai, even with the truncated powers we possess in the human world.'

Renji smirked; as if sensing his lieutenant's anger, Byakuya threw a short glance over his shoulder, prompting the red-haired young man to remain silent.

'If we know where Orihime is, then that's where we should be,' Ichigo stated, with a shrug.

'Don't think you heard this right, Kurosaki,' Grimmjow muttered, shaking his head in dismay. 'There's our little dysfunctional cooperative here, and there's a fucking army, over there.'

'Since when are you shy of combat?' Ichigo shot back, making the Sexta throw his head back and laugh.

'I ain't shy,' Grimmjow answered, between chuckles. 'I still wanna go down in a blaze of glory, dude. Just that you don't really get that Aizen won't give me that opportunity – would be more like squish! Done. An' Barragan ain't far off that.'

'Listen, people, point is, Neliel Tu an' Stark can do Barragan, once Stark's hangover's gone.' Lilinette began. 'You, big crazy guy,' she pointed at Kenpachi, 'are exactly Halibel's type – real brainy. I know Grimm wants to get at Tousen like there's no tomorrow, and at least one of you, Shinigami, can wipe the grin off Gin's face… Szayel Aporro can do lots of people at the same time, 'cuz he's a bloody encyclopedic spirit and I'll be around to pick up the slack – but none of it counts. Not with Aizen there; all he's gotta do is tense his reiatsu, and he'll crunch most of us flat.'

'If he applies it on such a large scale, will it not also affect his troop?' Unohana asked.

'Quite likely,' Szayel Aporro snickered. 'But by now, Shinigami, I would think you know that the welfare of his pawns is quite low on Aizen's list of priorities. Both Halibel and Barragan, and Gin and Tousen can withstand his spiritual pressure attack. On our side, I believe that only Stark can claim the same, and only for a limited amount of time. Even if Aizen wipes out all the rest of his force, he will still have four standing – we can only count on one, perhaps two. Aizen needs to be tackled somehow.'

'I take it none of y'all thinks they can beat him?' Lilinette asked, arching her eyebrow, and pointedly looking at Kenpachi. In a most uncharacteristic way, both the captain and the lieutenant of the 11th shrugged.

'I wish I had a definite response to that, Lilinette,' the captain of the 4th slowly replied, in the odd silence of the other two captains. 'But I do not. None of us have measured ourselves against him in a very long time, and I assume that even if we had, he would not have revealed his true strength.'

'But he does fear you, captain Unohana,' Stark remarked. The woman smiled humbly, raising her small hand as if rejecting the compliment.

'I can sometimes see through Kyoka Suigetsu,' she simply answered. 'I am unsure that is more than a small tactical advantage.'

'I believe it is a bit more than that,' the Segunda pressed, narrowing his eyes. 'Else he would not have made sure that you came to Hueco Mundo, alongside…' His gloved fingers fluttered lazily to indicate Kenpachi.

'I cannot know,' Unohana replied, as kindly as before, and, for a few moments, the room fell silent. 'Still,' she continued, at length turning towards Szayel Aporro, 'despite captain Kuchiki's reservations, I shall answer your earlier question, as I deem it justified. There are no Gotei reinforcements forthcoming. Our mission here was approved after strenuous negotiations on behalf of the Kuchiki family, and it is all but unofficial.'

'Nii-sama,' Rukia breathed, in utter surprise; displeased by her outburst, Byakuya lowered his forehead, refusing to grant her as much as a glance.

'We assumed as much,' Szayel Aporro sighed. 'I must say, this is one occasion where we would have liked you to contradict our assumptions.'

He adjusted his glasses.

'Very well then,' he continued, with a little shrug. 'In this case, I surmise that an attack on the throne room is out of the question.'

'Or' Renji spat from the side, '_you_ are simply afraid to go out and fight without your machinery?' Szayel considered the insult for half a second, then permissively tilted his head to the side and smiled.

'Defeat has a long lasting bitter aftertaste, does it not, vice-captain Abarai?' he replied. 'I assure you that if we were to attack Aizen, you would die far earlier than I would.'

'Then, what do you suggest?' Ichigo burst. 'That we sit on our hands and do nothing?'

'No, of course _not_,' Szayel responded, in a mildly insulted tone. 'I am merely suggesting a more subtle approach than running with our skulls against a brick wall.'

'Go on,' Kuchiki nodded.

'It is impossible,' the Octava began, sweetly, 'that all of our disappearances went unnoticed. I imagine the mood at God's side should be quite sour, at present, and, in all honesty, if we could deprive him of one of the last two Espada, along with their Fraccion, the battle would be won. While an entire group not approach them, a single suitably disguised person could go and have a meaningful conversation with either Halibel or Barragan.'

'Is backstabbing your answer to everything, Szayel Aporro?' Neliel asked, cranking her nose, and drawing a disapproving, long stare from Grimmjow.

'Assassination?' Byakuya inquired, in obvious disgust.

'You're thick,' Grimmjow mumbled, shifting his glance to the Shinigami. 'Or you simply don't grasp that neither of the two can be bloody backstabbed. When Szayel Aporro says – meaningful conversation, that's exactly what he means. For all normal beating about the bush, he tends to be quite literal when he says somethin'…'

'Yet nobody really ever grasps my meaning on the first attempt,' Szayel whimpered. 'I think I am cursed by other people's stupidity. In any event,' he reiterated, with a deep, pained sigh, 'there is plenty of solid logical argument to point at the fact that remaining loyal to Aizen is not truly brilliant; three Espada are, effectively, dead by your hand. We have dealt with Ulquiorra and I hope thoroughly incapacitated Yammy. They must know they are far from invincible.'

'Besides, captain Kuchiki, your troupe is here, and, of course, in an amicable discussion, your numbers can be exaggerated – Aizen has found it suitable to lie about your strengths and abilities so many times, that no kind of reassurance would make_ me _believe him when he states there are no more than four of you. If you were, say, six, we would be acting to a different script, and considering a change of allegiances would not be too far fetched.'

'Would they not be able to see how many of us there are?' Unohana questioned.

'Gin probably would, since he has no respect for intellectual property and borrowed some of my know-how,' the Octava smirked. 'But he would have the same credibility problem Aizen does, and neither of them would even conceive having to actually demonstrate that they are right. As far as the rest are concerned, they will only feel one of you.'

'Captain Kenpachi,' Unohana nodded.

'Quite so.' Szayel nodded, in his turn.

'You'd be wasting your breath on Halibel,' Stark said, leaning back and closing his eyes.

'You'd know best,' the Octava shrugged.

'Yes,' the Segunda replied softly. 'I would.'

'Hm?' Neliel inquired, with a little frown. 'Why would you be so sure?'

'Because he's been tickling her…eh, intellect, in your absence, Nellie,' Grimmjow snickered; the young woman bit her lip, throwing Stark a vicious glance, and Ichigo shook his head in dismay.

'You simply cannot help yourself, can you,' Szayel snarled. 'I often wonder if your interest in everyone else's sexual activities stems from a complete lack of sexual activities of your own, kitty. Stark has been tickling Halibel's intellect for long before Neliel Tu was even born, in this life, or the one before it, during a time when you were wondering mindlessly about in the desert spitting at the moon. The takeaway of all this is that his opinion on the subject is more than sufficiently educated.'

'So, let me get this straight,' Ichigo muttered. 'You're telling us that it's not even worth trying to talk a woman you've been with for the better part of a century into saving her skin.'

Stark lazily shrugged.

'What the fuck are you?' the boy spat, in utter disgust.

'A realist,' the Segunda replied, with a wide grin. 'You're welcome to try,' he shrugged, 'but I don't see it happening. Also, if we fail to turn her, she'll be in Aizen's ear within a flash, and we'd also lose Barragan. If I were to choose between the two, I'd choose him; he's the stronger, anyway. He's not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he's sharp enough to know when odds are against him. Or at least he was when he surrendered to Aizen.'

'What if this fails?' Kuchiki asked. 'It is not that I believe your kind's potential for treachery is limited…'

'Oh no, for sure not,' Lilinette interrupted. 'It's only slightly smaller than your kind's potential for treachery.' The Shinigami gave her a cold stare, then continued.

'…but if we fail, we will have lost a good amount of time, and possibly one useful individual. This course of action does not inspire confidence.'

'I am more than open to alternatives,' Szayel muttered, his grimace the perfect expression of deeply injured intelligence. 'If anyone has any.'

'Well, Stark here can't be caught,' Ichigo said, cranking his nose. 'He got Orihime out from under my nose once, I bet he can do it from under Aizen's nose as well.'

'Har, har,' Lilinette smirked. 'Ain't you bright!'

'Why not?' Ichigo continued. 'I mean, you can blink in and out of places, can't you?'

'And your bright idea is that I blink in the throne room, which is constructed out of two feet thick sekki stone, grab Inoue Orihime and blink out?' Stark asked, in honest amazement.

'Yeah,' the human boy shrugged.

'Uh,' Lilinette answered instead of her Espada, 'no. Firstly, 'cuz I'm not letting him get between all of them alone, an' secondly, 'cuz he has no bloody reason to do such a stupid thing.'

'I believe that if it is within his abilities,' Byakuya began, 'it is a perfectly logical course of action.'

'Ha?' Lilinette exclaimed, though Stark too had leaned forward. 'For who?'

'Let me articulate that question in an understandable manner,' Szayel muttered. 'What purpose would that serve?'

'It would eliminate the only leverage Aizen holds against us,' Kuchiki flatly answered.

'Your definition of _us _evades me, I must confess,' the Octava smirked.

'Gee, pretty boy, you must think we're real dumb,' Grimmjow snarled in his turn. 'Supposin' Stark does do it, and through divine fucking intervention, it works, what then?'

'Then, they collect their baggage and return to the Sereitei,' Stark answered. 'Leaving God to sort out his own.'

'I would not approve of such behavior,' Unohana mildly interrupted.

'You will forgive me if I find that a little less than heart-warming,' the Segunda responded. 'In other words, kid,' he continued, turning to Ichigo, 'no. I wonder why it does not occur to you that I could blink in and out for a chat with Barragan…There would be no time wasted.'

'Because, honestly, I find the perspective of your group growing in numbers, by the addition of yet another powerful Vasto Lorde unacceptable,' Byakuya said, a threatening twinge of irritation in his voice. 'Do not think I cannot see through you, Second Espada,' he added, straightening his shoulders and laying his palms flatly on the table. 'You know you are at a disadvantage in strength, and you would do anything to remedy. It is enough that we have pactized with you; I will not make concessions for yet another of your kind.'

Stark breathed deeply, obviously trying to still his temper. Oblivious to it, Byakuya continued.

'After Inoue Orihime is retrieved, in the manner described by Kurosaki, we shall open a portal for you towards the human world, where you may assist the Gotei. You shall be safe from your master, and we will have sufficient numbers not to require the assistance of either the third or first Espada.'

'In other words,' Szayel Aporro purred, 'you already have sufficient cannon fodder.'

Byakuya did not deign to respond, and a thick web of silence grew over the room.

'Guys,' Nel shakily began, at length. 'It's clear that we don't trust or like each other.'

'O'really?' Lilinette muttered.

'But this stalemate serves no one,' Neliel added, shaking her head. 'As we are arguing, Aizen is looking for a replacement for Ulquiorra. Sooner or later he will find one or two that fit the spot, and the balance of strength will change in his favor. We're wasting time we should not be wasting.'

'Can he so quickly replace an Espada?' Unohana inquired.

'He may. He light-heartedly dispensed with quite a few of us,' Szayel answered, after a slight hesitation. 'I am sure he did not mean to dispense with Ulquiorra, and that none of the present Numeros rival him or Stark. Yet, be that as it may, he has a virtually unlimited number of Adjucas at his disposal, and any of them has a good chance of turning into something like Grimmjow or Neliel Tu. As long as the Hougyaku is in his possession, he is bound to find one or perhaps a combination of two that can fill the spot – not fully, but adequately.'

'Are there more Vasto Lorde?' Byakuya asked. His eyes had narrowed, as if his mind had drifted in another direction; the change in expression did not escape Stark, who shook his head and looked to the side in sudden disgust.

'If Aizen had one of Ulquiorra's level immediately on hand, we would not be sitting here chatting,' he answered, slowly and carefully. 'He just needs the one more powerful element. If he had found it, either we'd be fighting for our lives, or your friends in the human world would be fighting for their lives.'

'I gathered as much,' Byakuya responded, in an equally careful tone. 'I was asking about Vasto Lorde in Hueco Mundo at large, that Aizen may still reach. Certainly your…kind,' he said, thought the word _'ilk'_ had certainly been on his lips, 'must be aware of each other's presences…'

'Wouldn't you like to know,' Stark muttered, under his breath.

'It is a legitimate question,' Kuchiki shot back, choosing to ignore Unohana's frown.

'Of course,' Stark laughed. 'Especially if you need to know how many of us you will have to clean up after you've used us to deal with your own treacherous kind.'

Byakuya made a faint and transparently feign motion of denial, but he was quickly cut off.

'Do not assume I cannot see through _you_, captain Kuchiki,' Stark added, in an unpleasant, menacing tone; for the first time since the beginning of the encounter, his reiatsu rose above Unohana's, the atmosphere in the room becoming wet and repressively cold. 'I have been around for a _little_ while and I've seen the Gotei operate under Yamamoto. You've interfered with our battles, made good use of your chances of trapping us between a rock and a hard place, and you've seized the chance to minimize your losses while doing away with a few more _impure_ creatures in the process. I am even beginning to wonder if Aizen himself is not a sprocket in the mechanism – he finds the Vasto Lorde, and then aligns them before you for the kill.'

'Of course you have no interest in us turning Barragan, even if that would mean defeating Aizen would become a technical exercise. You'll have to clean up the rest of us after you're done, and the fewer we are, the merrier you will be. After all, you and the captain commander will have to make sure you don't come this close to peril again. What better way of making sure of that then culling the existing Vasto Lorde, and learning how to monitor their future numbers? After all, that particular technique worked wonders on the Quincy.' Stark breathed, unconsciously clenching his right fist.

Ichigo half turned towards Ishida, expecting the archer to protest the parallel. The Quincy had stayed silent, however, looking through all them as if the room had been empty.

'I assure you,' Unohana began, kindly, 'this was not our mandate.'

'Perhaps not,' Stark conceded, though his tone had not grown more conciliatory. 'but mandates can always be updated. You would never have guessed that you'd run into what you did, and Captain Kuchiki is exactly the right sort who'd spontaneously think of what I've just described - the sort that has no more respect for humans than he does of Hollows. He did not venture here for Inoue Orihime's sake. Nor is she his problem _now_. And if you are not considering this, kid,' he shot to the side at Ichigo, who did not find the time to refute the argument, 'Grimmjow's assessment of your wits is entirely correct. Captain Kuchiki has no intention of fighting here. He has now found both his sister and his lieutenant – Inoue Orihime remains a secondary goal to him, and if he cannot get her out of the fire with my hands, he'll be more than happy to return to the Sereitei without her. And, if you are stubborn, without you.'

In the wake of his words, the silence solidified and gathered physical wheight.

'That was a mildly less than constructive remark,' Szayel said, in a neutral tone.

'Does he look like he's trying to be constructive, Szayel Aporro?' Stark asked, snappily turning towards the Octava 'And under the circumstances, should I?'

'Yes, _you_ fucking should,' Ichigo answered, in a dangerous sotto-voce. 'In fact, so far, you're the least constructive of the whole lot, you cannibalistic monster…'

'Shut your trap, Kurosaki,' Grimmjow growled.

'No, you shut your trap! You bloody owed me,' the human boy hissed, furiously leaning forward. 'You bloody owed me, and you still let him at Ulquiorra…'

'I owed you an' I kept my word; didn't lay a finger on Ulquiorra,' the Sexta laughed. 'He didn't owe you shit. So, shut the fuck up and let the big boys speak for a change. An' you,' he added, baring his canines in Stark's direction, 'if you can't keep it in your pants, digest with your mouth closed. You ain't helping shit.'

'Did you happen to catch the merry twinkle in captain Kuchiki's eye, Grimmjow?' Stark mumbled.

'You ain't fucking growing,' the Sexta hissed, in such a low tone that Ichigo could barely make out the words. The Segunda's lower jaw tensed. 'So whatever tickles pretty boy's cherry is irrelevant, at the moment. We need them…'

'Would you be able to offer us any guarantee of safe return to Hueco Mundo once we are in the human world?' Szayel Aporro asked, in a blank tone.

'It would be highly dependent on your behavior and performance,' Kuchiki responded, in an equally flat manner; Grimmjow cursed under his breath. To his credit, Szayel Aporro did not even flinch. In turn, Stark laughed, and painstakingly hoisted himself up, looking at Lilinette with an unreadable expression.

'You see? This is why I've asked you to promise me something, Lilinette,' he said, softly. The girl swallowed dry, and frowned. 'Make the promise.'

'Fuck off,' she answered, in a barely audible whisper. 'We're all in this together.' He had no recourse but to shrug.

'Very well then, children,' Stark conceded, briefly raising his palms in surrender. 'I admit to not being in a mood to swallow more shit, so I will retire for a nap – do let me know what you decide, and I will abide by the constructively reached decision. But if I can't bloody stop my execution, I will at least not participate in the sentencing hearing.'

'Stark, please…'Neliel began to protest, her words cut off by a swift and decisive hand gesture.

'No,' he cuttingly answered. 'As Grimmjow rightfully remarked, we don't have a choice – so there's no point in pretending we do. When captain Kuchiki has decided what it is that he wants us to do, and how exactly our behavior and performance will be measured, be so kind as to inform me and I will snap to attention. In the meanwhile, I will nap. I've sat through this discussion once before, three hundred years ago.' he hissed. 'I'm in no mood for the rerun.'

He left the room, without looking back; Ishida followed.

Up Next - Birds of a feather...


	34. Past Lives

Good evening! and thank all kind people, old and new, that read and comment :) Thank you too, those who just read :P I have a little challenge for you :) Over the next few days, I shall be posting quite fast, in shorter installments than usual. The reason for this is simple - the next three chapters were written in two days, as one complete piece, and they are intended to be read as such. Yet, I could not bring myself to punish you with a 12k words installment, nor do I want to go into 'Swing Back the Pendulum' mode for a week.

So, here we stand. The first of two back stories begins today; will as always be greatful for your comments, and, still as always, I thank Maidros for not strangling me over the web.

Chapter 34 - Where Ishida is sweet.

* * *

It took a few minutes for Stark to notice Ishida's presence. Immediately upon leaving the room, the Segunda had found himself dark corner and sat down, leaning his forehead on his crossed arms. All of his movements had been unusually slow and deprived of fluidity, as if his joints had been rigid and painful. Once he sat, Stark sighed with obvious relief and remained perfectly still, making Ishida wonder if the Arrancar would truly keep his word and fall asleep. If he could, the Quincy thought, it would be an ultimate achievement.

It was not the case, however – after a few moments of remaining absolutely motionless, Stark suddenly lifted his head, and stared blankly ahead, with a tortured grimace.

'Are you allright?' Ishida asked, much in spite of himself. The Arrancar was clearly in a very foul mood, and Ishida pondered at his daring; yet, Stark's reiatsu remained still, and even receded a notch as the archer approached.

'Am I acting odd?' Stark questioned, lifting an eyebrow. The tone of his voice had not been overly ironic, however, and Ishida drew another step closer.

'Not really,' he answered, realizing how silly his reassurance must have sounded; he had, after all, only known this man…this Hollow, he forced himself to think, for little over two days – though every hour had seemed like an eternity. 'You just…'

'Lost my sense of humor in there for a bit,' Stark chuckled.

'Don't think anyone noticed,' Ishida shrugged in response, with a little smile of his own.

He came close enough to stand over the Arrancar, and Stark looked up for a few seconds, before yielding and closing his eyes.

'Please don't force me to look up,' he said. 'My head feels like it is made of gelatin.'

He looked about wearily, clearly searching for something for Ishida to sit on.

'I think this is why Szayel Aporro has no friends,' Stark shrugged. 'Visitors need to stand, sit on the floor or visit his bedroom. Mayhaps,' he chuckled, with the air of a person who had just made a momentous discovery, 'that is the smart ploy!'

'That's OK,' the Quincy shrugged, sitting down and crossing his legs. 'I've been sitting more or less on the floor for almost a day now; it is so spotlessly clean that my uniform is still perfectly white.'

'That is kind of freaky in itself,' Stark chuckled again, and Ishida conceded with a nod.

The white blot of skin had shifted upwards, though it had not truly changed size. It was now positioned on the Arrancar's neck, and its pink, burned edges almost crept over the line of his jaw. For as much as Ishida tried not to stare, his eyes were drawn to it; he stubbornly looked away, locking his glance to Stark's and unwillingly swallowing dry. The Arrancar shrugged.

'Curiosity is allright,' he said. 'Just do not lecture, me, please, I know I have it coming from Neliel Tu and your friend Kurosaki will never forget about it for as long as he lives…'

'Will it stay like that forever?' Ishida asked, the question blurting out before he could control it. He grimaced in embarrassment, but Stark waved it away.

'Not forever, but it will be a while. Ulquiorra was a very stubborn creature, and he had almost as much reiatsu as I do – before I can completely transform it to my own, it will try to settle in a form that is most familiar to it. I am just happy I am not shrinking in height. Or getting tear trails,' he wisely added. 'Are you truly_ not _going to lecture?'

'I don't think that would be smart.' Ishida shrugged. 'Besides, I tend not to judge.'

'Good,' Stark answered, in a distant whisper. 'That's very good for you, Uryu.'

The Arrancar bit his lower lip, and gazed searchingly at the human.

'Well,' the Quincy smiled. 'it may be that or the fact that after I've seen Szayel Aporro actually bite into his Fraccion…'

'Yes, he always did lack confidence,' the Arrancar sighed.

'Lack confidence?' Ishida frowned. 'Are we discussing the same Szayel Aporro? The _Perfect Being_ and whatnot?'

Stark waved his words away.

'Szayel Aporro only eats his own Fracciones,' he explained. 'And they are made, if you will, by his own controlled recipe – their reiatsu is derived from his own, and while they make for very effective healing, they don't enhance him. I've been aware of him for some fifteen years, and, as far as I know, he has never eaten anything larger than a Menos. He does not trust his condition yet, or well, he doesn't think his reiatsu is strong enough to subdue another. That's why he still relies on the qualities he posessed as a human, rather than on his Hollow strength. You fought him, you must have noticed it.'

Ishida smirked and started to push his glasses upwards on his nose – he caught himself before he could complete the gesture, and his smirk turned into a frown.

'Yes, well, indeed,' he said, in a rebellious tone.

'Now, now, don't be a sore loser,' Stark laughed. 'Fornicares is a beautiful sword.'

'Eh? It is the most disgusting thing I've ever seen…'

'I thought you said you didn't judge,' the Segunda scolded, jokingly. 'Detach yourself from the fact that you got beaten, and think of what _she_ actually does.'

'It's quite weak,' Ishida muttered.

'Not really,' the Segunda said, with a little knowing grin. 'Fornicares is very impressive – she has, what? Six or seven different abilities, all of them vastly different from each other. But you see, even this should speak mountains of Szayel's lack of confidence. Firstly, he cannot focus. And secondly, he really is afraid of being killed, thus, out of the many powers, it is only Gabriel that is clearly defined and extremely functional. Sorry to be blunt,' he apologetically added.

'See,' Stark laughed again, 'in the unlikely event that we will survive this, I will never worry about Grimmjow. He's really a fair and loyal creature, if he receives loyalty in turn. But in a hundred or so years, once Szayel Aporro lets go of his humanity and starts actually trusting his Hollow powers, he'll give me plenty of headaches.'

'I thought he was the least human of all of you,' Ishida surrendered.

'Quite the opposite.' Stark answered, then shrugged, with a conciliatory expression. 'Or at least he is closest to what he was when he was alive – he was not too human then, either.' Both remained silent for a moment.

'How can you know?' Ishida asked. The Arrancar gave him a long, searching glance.

'During our transformation, the Hougyaku retained imprints of our dominant souls,' Stark said, at length. 'Parts of our memories – or at least of the memories of those who were already Vasto Lorde; the Adjucas were luckier in that regard. In any event, Ulquiorra, who passed though the gem last, _saw_ all of them. It was one of his more disturbing abilities, that one,' the Segunda chuckled, dryly. 'And then, of course, Aizen saw it fit to impart tidbits of information to the right ears, making sure that he would not have to expend too much energy to keep order in the ranks. For some it didn't matter – Barragan was always proud of the death and suffering he imparted when he was alive and at the head of his tribe, LeRoux was too detached from his past for it to have any significance. But for some of us, keeping those secrets buried was immensely crucial and thus, we were open to all sorts of gentle persuasion from each other. Divide et impera, masterfully applied.'

'And Szayel Aporro was…' Ishida prompted, making Stark purse his lips in amusement.

'That's a bit of unhealthy curiosity there, Uryu,' he observed, without malice.

'I'm trying to see if he will ever…'

'Let go of vice-captain Kurosutchi, now that he's seen he can endlessly use Gabriel on her,' Stark hastily completed. 'You are 17 and you are mightily transparent.'

Ishida looked away.

'He might,' Stark answered, with a shrug. 'You'd laugh, but he is not inherently sadistic.'

'Could have fooled me,' the human smirked.

'What Szayel Aporro is, what he always was, is a person too strikingly different from those around him to feel like he even belongs to the same race. It is, if you will, as if he had been born eight feet tall in a world of dwarves; he does not intend to harm, he harms when it is useful – mind you, he finds pleasuring himself by satisfying his curiosity mighty useful – and he has no concept of good or evil.'

'The true definition of a psychopath,' Ishida sighed.

'Perhaps,' Stark conceded. 'But he is not inherently evil, and he is quite capable of being selflessly good. More so than I am, in fact.'

Ishida smirked, in clear disbelief.

'Szayel Aporro spent his human life doing harm to others. Not in the Barragan way of it…He, he,' Stark suddenly laughed. 'Lilinette has a brilliant simile for this – she says that if both of them had a pet hamster, Barragan would squish it with a hammer just because the hammer's on hand. Szayel Aporro would feed it a wet salad leaf, to see if he can fix it, in the end. And if he can't, oh well, chuck that one to experience, and get another hamster.'

'That's horrible,' Ishida breathed.

'Yes, maybe.' Stark admitted. 'Still, Szayel Aporro did love as a human, and he still does so now. He did good things as well, endlessly, for person he loved, and he continued to do so even if he was thoroughly unrewarded. And selflessness, Uryu, is a good thing. A really good thing. One might even argue it is redeeming. Even more so because he never considered it as such.'

'I, on the other hand,' Stark continued, looking through the Quincy, 'was a moderately good person. Didn't feed wet salad to hamsters, and truly had no use for hammers. But I committed a serious error in judgment. Just once. And here we are.' He smiled. 'So then,' Stark continued, leaning his head on the wall and closing his eyes, 'the question you should _never_ ask yourself, Uryu, is why if a single, even unwilling, act of evil is enough to condemn you, a single purposeful, selfless good action is not enough to redeem you.'

'Why should I never ask myself that?' the Quincy frowned. Stark did not hurry to answer, his head turning slowly towards the archer.

'Because it's a Shinigami question. It taints you, and once you have become tainted, there is nothing you can do to cleanse yourself.'

'Why do you hate them so much?' the human asked, shaking his head.

'Come on, Uryu. Don't you know?' Stark chuckled bitterly. 'Haven't you guessed?'

Ishida clenched his teeth. Eyes half closed, and not watching his own gestures, Stark took off his right glove, extending his wrist. His gestures had been slow, but not theatrical – his fingers simply trembled too much to allow speed or dexterity. The Espada tattoo that marked his rank was spelled in Roman numerals, two dark, thick lines. Not parallel to each other, and not equal in length; one ran from the center of his palm and disappeared under the sleeve of his tunic. The other, a shorter and thicker one, intersected the other at a right angle, over Stark's wrist, forming a familiar, chilling pattern.

A Quincy cross.

Not needing further clarification, Ishida nodded rapidly, then furiously turned his head to the side, as if the mere sight of the symbol had physically injured him. Not wishing to insist, Stark slipped his glove back on.

'You will never know how surprised I was to see you,' The Arrancar said, in a trembling voice. 'I thought they had finally pushed the Quincy clan into extinction some fifty years ago, though the death warrant had been signed long before.'

'I am the last of our kind,' Ishida answered, softly, no trace of hesitation in his voice. Stark cringed.

'You are the last of _your _kind, Uryu,' he said. 'The only thing I still have a right to is being endlessly bitter.'

The young man swallowed dry, wondering why he had felt as if he had been swallowing his desire of contradicting the Hollow.

'What happened…' Ishida began, then nervously waved his hand to erase the question. 'How…'

'Nothing extraordinary,' Stark answered. 'Died angry, giant reiatsu, thus instant Hollow attractor – got turned, got judged.' He shrugged. 'Quincy are still human in the end, there is nothing that prevents us…them…from getting stuck outside the soul cycle.'

'No, I mean, what happened before that,' the human reiterated, shaking his head. 'Something _must _have happened.'

'Indeed,' Stark nodded, softly. 'Something did happen - I became tainted, and began to _judge. _Not very much, just a little around the edges,_'_ he joked. Ishida did not smile.

* * *

Up next - The French revolution. No, really...


	35. Spleen I

Wow, lots of love over the 4th of July Weekend :D I am impressed :) Thank all for reading, and especially reviewing. I hope the logical flow makes sense :) And Maidros, if you helped me half as much, my existance would be vain :)

And since I promised these should flow together...

Warnings - If you think all of this is Japanese, and cannot be appiled to the West, well, to bad for you. To me, the Quincy are Christian, even more so, fiercely Catholic. Because it is the Catholic that say evil must be destroyed, erased, purifyed; all other, even Christian beliefs say evil is part of the balance.

Chapter 35 - Where there is kindness.

_J'ai plus de souvenirs que si j'avais milles ans._

_I have less memories than I would if I were a thousand._

_--Charles Baudelaire, Les Fleurs du Mal, Spleen_

* * *

'Indeed,' Stark nodded, softly. 'Something did happen - I began to _judge. _Not very much, just a little around the edges,_'_ he joked.

'The Code says one must always exterminate Hollows,' he said. 'There is a point to this; why would one return souls which are pure evil, or, for whatever reason, become contaminated by evil intent, to the cycle? It is better that they are erased, and the Universe continues to flow on positive energies. Correct?'

Ishida nodded.

'Seems like fair logic,' the Arrancar shrugged. 'Doesn't always work.'

He drew a deep breath, and glanced at Ishida, silently questioning whether the young man wanted to hear the rest of the story. The Quincy gave a decisive, short nod.

'I lived at the time of the Great War, close to the end of it all.' Stark began, with a smirk. 'And trust me,' he chuckled dryly, 'I gave them hell. Not because I hated Shinigami, back then, but because I actually believed that our logic was better than theirs. Besides, we never attacked – we always defended. It was the Sereitei that set out to destroy us all, for upsetting the great balance of the…yes, well, you know _that _part.'

'Yes,' Ishida bitterly responded.

'Did what might be referred to as active duty for about ten months a year. When I was off, I spent my days at the house of a friend; he wasn't spiritually aware, and I found it comforting, for whatever odd reason. It was restful, in a sense, disturbing in others. Though we were of roughly the same age, he was married, and, had his wife not been sour and completely frigid, he might have had children. With her,' he chuckled. 'I am still sure he had a throng of offspring around the village, since, just like me, he did lift the skirt of anything that moved. And, to be thoroughly honest, I was never one to scold him on the subject. Bloody hell, I wouldn't have gone within twenty feet of that woman.'

'So why did he marry her?' the human asked.

'Ah, my hopelessly young, hopelessly modern boy,' Stark laughed, 'it was the eighteenth century, and marriage was a financial endeavor. Sort of like, merger and acquisition. He was a noble fellow, and she was even more noble – another good reason for her to hate me from the very core of her being. I came from a very well off, annoyingly well educated and insultingly bourgeois family. I swear she took my presence there as an personal slight. Made it even more fun,' the Arrancar mischievously grinned.

'In any event, another disturbing habit of the era was that in their unbridled generosity towards the less fortunate, rich families used to pick up very poor children to do housework. It was a balance of nature, in a way – poor families had a throng of children, expecting two or maybe three of the ten to survive to adulthood. When the children were old enough to obey commands, they could be turned into a good source of income for the parents, who doubtlessly knew no better, as well as for the local job placement agency…I am referring, of course, to the Western seat of righteousness and purity of the soul, the Roman Catholic Church. Though,' the Arrancar conceded with a little shrug, 'the Reformed were no better when they came along. When they found they have bred out of control and that there were simply too many mouths to feed, folks took their children to the church. The church, fulfilling its obligation of catering to the unfortunate, put the children into indentured slavery to local craftsmen – the boys -, and to rich families, who doubtlessly could not afford to pay a full wage for someone to do their laundry – for the girls. The children were given food and a roof over their head, while the little money that was paid was split half way between the church and the parents. Not altogether a bad deal.'

'I met Lilinette when she was seven,' Stark smiled. 'We look like we are twenty years apart in age now, but it was little over eleven, in reality. I was about your age, my head was spinning with our wars as well as human wars – _liberté, égalité, fraternité, _a great century to be young, middle class and spirited. I'd never pick another time; I felt like I had wings and I could make the heavens crumble. In more than one way,' he added, and Ishida chuckled.

'I met her when she was seven,' the Arrancar repeated. 'The first time I saw her, she was dirty as hell and thin as a twig, carrying two buckets of water that must have made up for half her body wheight. I offered to help; she put the buckets down and kicked me in the shin.'

'_More than able to lift dem buckets, thank ya!'_

'I really only wanted to help.'

'_Ain't that nice of ya, rich boy. Could've helped me three miles down the road, not on the last twenty feet. Bugger off an' go play the harp or summat!'_

'Some things never change,' Ishida bitterly smiled.

'No, they never do,' Stark nodded.'Next I saw her, I was reading in the garden and she dropped on top of my head from the tree above; she was supposed to be getting fresh fruit for lunch, but I think she was swinging upside down from a branch, waiting for some unfortunate soul to pounce on. Nearly broke my neck.'

'_So, watcha doin'?'_

'Was reading Spinoza,' the Arrancar shrugged. 'Way above my head, let alone Lilinette's.'

'_Book ain't got no pictures. That's useless.'_

'I, of course argued that no picture painted in a book could be as vivid as the ones that people could paint for themselves in their heads.'

'She must have been skeptical,' the Quincy observed.

'Oh yes.'

'_Nay, dem pictures are there so you don't have to spoil your eyes to make out them letters. Like in church, ya know? When ya look at the walls so ya don't have to read the big book. At least that's what the priest always says.'_

'_There are things in the big book that are not represented on the walls.'_

'_Like?'_

'_Like, for instance, the entire story of the crucifixion. You just see Christ on the cross, but you do not see how he got there.'_

'I thought I was very bright,' Stark shrugged. 'Lilinette thought differently. Because, of course, she had all the answers already.'

'_Jesus got one helluva beatin' and then he died and then he came back after.'_

'_That is the story, not the point of the story. The point is that he forgave everyone.'_

'_See? That's dumb. Priest always says Jesus forgave them all, and that we should always forgive folk like he did, but it don't make no sense. If people did bad things to me, I wouldn't forgive them, no sir. Why would he forgive them?'_

'_That is another thing that is not on the wall.'_

'_Yeh, right.'_

'I made it my mission over the summer to teach her to read. My friend was very amused and his wife was positively furious, saying that I was inciting the peasants to rebellion and tainting the mind of an innocent child with my revolutionary nonsense. Everyone had their cross to bear in life, she said, and all had to accept it. Precious, especially coming from one who didn't peel her own apples. Lilinette was not overly enthusiastic either, or at least she didn't want to appear as such. I made little progress with her that year, and, since I was, in the end, nineteen, I had almost given up on the idea by the time I returned to _our_ wars.'

'I went back the next year, gathered my books and sat under my tree, where there were no Hollows, no Shinigami and no restless spirits. Or at least so I thought.'

'_By mode, I mean the mo…modi…changes of substance, or that which exists in, and is con…conceived through, something other than itself.'_

'She dropped Spinoza's Ethics on top of my head, with remarkable aim, and jumped down from the branch.'

'…_the hell does that mean?'_

'I gave her a superior smirk, obviously, since I hadn't gotten my mind around the definition either.'

'_Must be somethin' real bad. I asked the priest about it an' he told on me and I got a whoopin'.'_

Ishida sorrowfully bowed his head, and Stark shrugged.

'I concluded two things,' the Arrancar followed. 'Firstly, that Spinoza was perhaps not the best reading material for beginners, and secondly, that the village priest was a bastard. He'd actually gone not to my friend, but to my friend's wife, and told her Lilinette was stealing books out of their library and selling them.'

'Which was not the case,' the Quincy nodded.

'No. While I was gone, she had indeed snuck books out of the library, but not to sell them. She would hide them under her mattress in the barn and read them at night, understanding nothing, of course, but following the flow of the letters. Nonetheless, she got caned so badly that her arms and shoulders were still scarred, months later. Yet, she never gave up – I think they actually encouraged her. In the ten months, her reading became almost flawless – the only trouble being that she couldn't really pronounce words that she had never heard spoken. So we struck a pact. All that summer I carried her buckets, and she read to me on the way. I picked the books this time around, doing my best to avoid the writings in my collection that mentioned transubstantiation every three rows.'

'She was,' Stark sighed, 'my perfect political statement.'

'Political statement?' Ishida frowned.

'Well, I was as keen on showing that peasants were not cattle in human shape as I was keen on showing that souls needed no Shinigami fatherly guidance on their way. Was the enlightened hobby of the era, and I was succeeding marvelously. For the next two years, I thought her progress was my merit. It was not. Lilinette was inexcusably smart and curious for her gender and condition; she had the stubbornness of a mule and the physical resistance of an ox. Just half of the chores she did throughout the day would have turned me into a wreck, yet…'

'She had sufficient left over energy to pound my window with apples in the middle of the night so I would come out and identify the signs of the zodiac on the night sky for her, and because no one had ever thought unquestionable obedience was anything else but a natural trait, they had not even bothered teaching her not to be cheeky. Probably figured the cane would do that sooner or later, but by now you've seen enough of Lilinette to know that's…'

'…fucking impossible,' Ishida snickered.

'Indeed,' Stark chuckled in return. 'Since no one had taught her what was proper, she had no inhibiting notions of blasphemy and thought of things that no other European Christian would have dared to think of, even in the age of light.'

'_So people once believed that there were gods that made the humans they loved into stars, to keep them immortal.'_

'She was laying on her back, chewing on a blade of grass. And I could not help but tell her that there were once people who believed each blade of grass and each tree had its own sparkle of divinity; that further to the East, there were other people who believed we had many lives, and worshipped gods with elephant heads and six arms, and that even further to the East, by all accounts, there were people with yellow skin and slanted eyes who made nature their temple, and prayed to trees, and stones, and rivers.' he continued, giving Ishida a warm glance. 'That all good things come and flow without boundary, in a full, endless circle.'

'_That's so nice. Why can't we believe that? Then no one would ever die for real; then we'd all be flowers and rivers and trees. Or at least we could have stuck to believing into gods that liked us enough to make us stars. Least, you had more to choose from than one guy who'll chuck you into hell if you talk back to the priest, even tho' the priest still goes to heaven if he lies like a pig.'_

'Arbitrary assignation of sin,' Stark whispered. 'Quite a concept for a ten year old.'

Ishida nodded.

'She repeated my story about the people with the yellow skin and the slanted eyes to some of the other kids in the village, and she came back the next day with a bruise the size on a melon. I, of course, told her that fighting was silly and that I didn't care whether the other kids believed me or not. It mattered to her, however, enough for her to defend my honor against two thirteen year old boys.'

'_Is nuthin'. Ya should see the other guy! Poked his eye out, I did!'_

'Argue with that.' The Arrancar shrugged.

'Did she poke his eye out?' Ishida asked.

'It was a minor exaggeration,' Stark laughed. 'But she did do some damage; enough for the good priest to threaten that he'd no longer assure her employment if she continued to behave like a devil posessed critter, and enough for her father to visit my friend's wife and humbly apologise, giving her leeway to discipline the errant girl in any way she liked,' Stark snarled. 'In any event, by my influence and by the unrepentant force of nature, Lilinette was growing far beyond their comprehension.'

'By then, I had grown wise enough to understand the damage that I was doing to Lilinette in my quest for a political statement; it was not that she wasn't ready for the world, I realized that I was turning her into something the world was not ready for. That if I kept on with my stories and my books, I would only turn her life into more of a living hell than it already was. Like the good, agnostic but still Christian bred man that I was, I tried to back off. For a month of the two, the next summer I didn't talk to her at all, no matter how she pounded my window with apples, and later…well, not _much_ later, with rocks. I finally relented and actually came to the window when she managed to hurl a boulder twice the size of her fist through the glass and half way across the room. Told her to go away.'

'_Ya wish!'_

'I told her that they would notice and that she'd get beaten again.'

'_Like ya'd let that happen!'_

'I really wondered why she knew I wouldn't. I was a rich boy, after all.'

'_Ya think I'm blind?'_

Stark's voice almost faded.

'_Ya think I don't see you're an angel?'_

'She shouted loudly enough to wake the dead.'

'_Ya think I can't see your light?'_

'Your light?' Ishida echoed.

'My reiatsu,' Stark answered.

'_Ya think I don't see your halo, like the pictures in the church? That I don't see how you glow in the day, how the cross on your wrist shines different in the dark? None of their crosses shine like that! Ya think I'm blind as well as stupid? Dunno what kind of angel you are, if you're the kind that lives inside a tree or a blade of grass, or if you can make people into stars…but angels can't be cowards. So you can't be one either; sooner or later you'll come out. The sooner ya do, the less windows I'll break.'_

'And then,' Stark said, 'I finally saw her light. She burned, Uryu, she shone as hot as the sun. I had never seen or felt such strong a reiatsu. Such beautiful a thing. I also saw that she was already unfit for the world, and that regardless of my intervention, she would never be like the rest of them. So I surrendered to the obvious and climbed out the window,' he shrugged. 'After that, I spared her the effort of throwing things at me, and just waited for her every evening at the designated spot. No point in avoiding the unavoidable.'

'My war was over soon after,' Stark followed, biting his lower lip. 'The predictable end to a hundred years of conflict, but there it was. How could we have triumphed? The Shinigami were countless, while we were human, mortal and bred slowly. How could we even dream the living could keep pace with the righteous dead?'

Ishida's lower lip trembled, and he nodded, trying his best to keep his breath even.

'I don't know what history recorded, Uryu, but in the west, we were less than three hundred when we surrendered; we thought it was the only course of action that could guarantee our survival so, we laid down our bows…we believed them, and we agreed to the shameful pact that marred our history. We agreed to no longer hunt Hollows, but corner them and wait for the Shinigami to come and impart justice, assign sin…'

'I was in the chamber when Yamamoto promised it was over. That they would stop hunting us, if we performed well on their behalf. And I was furious and ashamed of how relieved I felt, in the end of it all, yet, you see, I thought…we all thought it was the wisest possible outcome. This was the only answer Lilinette got wrong. Angels could be cowards. Or then, perhaps, we were no angels; I think in the back of our minds, we all thought we would refute the pact once we grew in numbers once more. We still didn't think the Shinigami were invincible.'

'Any target is reachable,' Ishida whispered, remembering his grandfather's words.

'…if you attack it from the right angle.' The Arrancar finished for him.

He shrugged.

'Indeed. We all inwardly agreed we were just buying ourselves a respite.'

'I returned to what I had begun to think of as Lilinette's place to lick my wounds, and, for a while, the turmoil of simply being human kept my mind off the war and our plans of revenge. That year, I stayed for four months instead of two, in spite of the fact that my friend seemed to be more of a guest in his household than I was. Lilinette was fourteen, and she was barefoot, and when she wasn't on her hands and knees polishing their floors she was out in the village reading to people the articles of an unknown, ignoble French teenager called _Rousseau_, who wrote nonsense which claimed unelected power is unjust. Some of them crossed themselves and said it was blasphemy, but I kept translating and she kept reading to them in dark basements, every Sunday after mass – I thought, if I could not overthrow heavenly injustice, perhaps we could do away with the earthly one.'

'I did not truly want to leave that year; I had nothing to return to, but I thought I might have liked to go to Paris, and see if this Rousseau fellow spoke as well as he wrote. The night before I was set to leave, she didn't throw apples at my window; she climbed in for the first time, sat on the side of my bed and ordered me to make love to her.'

'_Because if I'm not a virgin, they can't marry me off that easily, till you come back. Or better yet, after they marry me off, the stupid bugger will see I'm not a virgin and drop me for being a whore. And then I'll be free of all of them – father, brothers, the lady my mistress, you name it.'_

'I told her not to be silly.'

'_Yes, well, I'm old enough. Had my courses for two years now. And people say I'm pretty, though I'm rowdy. My pop comes to see me once in a while, and I know what he's thinking. That once I'm married, and I have a man to rein me in and slap me across the teeth when I talk nonsense, I'll cool off.'_

'We both knew she wouldn't. I explained that being a young girl alone in the world was not that easy; that reading and writing wouldn't keep a girl fed, even in the city. That especially in the city, people would easily see how pretty she was, and promptly find other uses for her beauty.'

'_And your answer is letting me marry? So after a lifetime of being beaten with a stick, washing and drying the great lady's laundry just right, I'll get to wash the underwear of a pig with dirt under his fingernails, who thinks it's his God given right to slap me proper, as my pop did my mom?' _

Ishida brought his knees to his chest.

'So,' Stark smiled, 'we made another pact. I would go home, and tell my parents I intended to marry her. Not then, but when she was of proper age, in a couple of years; until then, she could well live in our home, and finally learn French, in my mother's honor. In truth, it came as the most natural thing in the world. Years later, I even wondered if she made up the forced marriage idea to poke me awake, and prompt me into doing the only thing that made sense. I left early the next morning; told her I would be back in a month.'

'Your parents didn't want her?'

'On the contrary, my parents were absolutely exhilarated,' Stark shrugged. 'My enlightened and revolutionary disposition was inherited, then nurtured – I had nothing to fear from them. Also, though I had quite a reputation in many a locale and I had been a ladies man,' he grinned, 'they were not the kind of ladies a well raised young man would bring home. After many years of silence on the subject of women and marriage, my parents had quietly begun to suspect I was playing for Szayel Aporro's team.'

The Quincy laughed out loud.

'They were well and truly happy. I was twenty six,' Stark smiled in turn. 'In those days, people had five children by that age, and died twenty years after. If they were exceptionally healthy.'

'Why didn't the thought of taking her with you occur to you sooner?' Ishida asked.

'Both my parents were Quincy,' Stark replied softly. 'All of my friends were Quincy – you, who stand last, could not know, but we kept to the clan. Until the war was over, there was nowhere to take her to; we were constantly chased, and she would have been in greater danger. Especially since she was spiritually aware. She would have seen the Shinigami, she would have come to see the Hollows – and they would have come to see her. And trust me, Uryu,' the Arrancar hissed, 'no Hollow would resist trying their fangs on a human with that much spirit power. I suspected it back then. Now, I know it first hand.'

He drew a deep breath.

'I returned in two weeks, not a month. It was, however, already _much_ too late. She had died four days earlier, of a sudden high fever. And she was already buried.'

'What happened?' Ishida cringed. 'How could a young girl die in a week and a half…'

'That's what I wanted to know,' Stark answered, his voice trembling with fury. 'But no one had wondered the same, and since cutting bodies up was not the Christian thing to do, they buried her, and turned the page. Not me, though,' he added, chewing on every syllable. 'I wrote to a friend from the city, who occupied himself with the amazing and frowned upon feat of cutting the dead open to see what killed them. He had this notion that dissecting dead people could someday help the living. He came, we dug her up in the middle of the night, and he did, indeed, find what had killed her.'

'And…and you could bring yourself to…see…that?' Ishida gagged, drawing a reproachful stare from the Arrancar.

'The body is just a shell,' he replied. 'Both of us know that.'

The young man nodded bitterly, accepting the berating.

'What killed her?' he asked, softly.

'My friend called it a massive stomach infection.' Stark answered. 'Now, as I am older, wiser and have spent some time in Szayel's learned company, I would call it peritonitis.'

'A ruptured appendix?' Ishida breathed. 'Something as simple as…'

'It was 1746, a full thirty years before the self evident truth that all men were created equal emerged as an idea, Uryu. People were still made of God's good earth, not of organs and blood. But that was no one's crime,' Stark whispered. 'What was a crime was that no one believed her when she said she felt ill; her _mistress_ would not give her a small coin to see whatever passed for a doctor in that buried corner of the world. Her father sent her back to the big house after beating her for being lazy. I wanted to hate him,' the Arrancar said. 'I wanted to kill him, and I came very close to erasing a living soul. Grave dirt still on my sleeve I knocked on his door, and what I saw when he opened it…'

He shook his head in dismay.

'The man was little more than a beast himself, but he was a wounded one. How could he know, he wailed to me, that she was really sick? She had never been sick a day in her life. He had thought that her illness, just like the man who came to the big house every year, and told her he would marry her, was a phantom, a specter of her imagination. How was he to know? He thought she had lain with a boy from the village – _oh, messire, you know how them young girls are, nothing 'tween the ears but wet 'tween the thighs_ - that if she was sick, it was because she was with child, he'd never thought…'

'Despicable,' Ishida whispered.

'What could I tell him?' Stark questioned, towards the darkness. 'I saw the grief and guilt gnawing at him and I thought he deserved no respite; death was too good. I told him to reach out and touch me. That I was _real_. That I had loved her; that I came back for her, that I never lied to her and never laid a finger on her outside _holy_ matrimony. I turned around and left. It was ten years before I looked back.'

* * *

Up next - Folk choose their punishment.


	36. Spleen II

Evening y'all, and welcome to the last installment of the back story :) Hopefully, all the pieces will fall into their logical place, now, in the end.

Thank all for reading and commenting - and I'd especially your notes on this one :) As usual Maidros is my hero. When he's not compiling a list of Shinigami to kill in the final battle, that is. o.O I wonder, after killing Ulquiorra, could I get away with killing Shiro-kun? (I weep in my pillow).

Chapter 36 - Where folks die very, very angry.

* * *

'By that time, there the shame of the pact was gone, and we felt strong enough to return to being Quincy. We'd kept our side of the agreement, but we were growing restless, just like the world around us. And slowly, when the Shinigami were not looking, we returned to the old ways, and did what was in our nature to do. We did not refute the pact first; it was clear to all that the Shinigami were slow in responding to our calls, and that the strength in our numbers and the closeness of our clan kept us from becoming fewer each month.'

'They were late,' Ishida muttered. 'That was the plan.'

'They were always _late,_' Stark snarled in response. 'No one ever thought it was anything more than purposeful ill-intent. The later they were, the more danger we had to run to keep the Hollows alive and cornered – so sometimes, we did not. I for one, never even tried. Each time that I materialized my bow, I saw Lilinette's father before me, and I shot to kill, praying with each arrow that he would feel enough guilt to hang back and be corrupted, and that eventually I could take filth like him out of the flow.'

'The Shinigami noticed eventually, and they warned us to stop; when we didn't, there were a few skirmishes, but nothing strong enough to completely crumble the peace treaty. Our leaders did not want to return to a war state, and I think neither did Yamamoto, because we _really_ gave them hell…so, we did what we knew best, they kept trying to punish us as best they could. Yet, though, nothing was ever spoken of, we were as much at war as we had ever been. The peace was just a veil over a leper's face.'

'When we became aware of a giant Hollow infestation in my friend's village,' the Arrancar followed, 'I thought all my prayers had been answered. With no word to the Shinigami, we went there _en masse - _some forty of us, and we were still too few. I, of course, kept very quiet about my past connections to the place. They surfaced eventually, but by that time, all were too engulfed with their duties to take notice.'

'The place,' Stark said, shaking his head at the memory, 'was barely recognizable. Life was all but extinct; a few old people, weak and wrinkled, still slithered in the shadows of buildings. None could explain it, but for almost a decade, few children had lived past ten; some drowned, some fell from trees they had climbed hundreds of times, and some just fell ill with fever and died. It was like God had turned his face from them altogether. No one could tell while doors swung open in the night, why windows broke and why shadows crept in the moonlight, why trees dried up and died, shedding their leaves in hours, why nothing grew anymore and why even the waters in the fountains had turned stale.'

'All agreed that everything had happened after the lady of the big house had died. No one knew why she had hanged herself from a tree in the garden; folk whispered that she saw ghosts and spirits in her later days, but given that she'd grown increasingly insane in the last year of her life, they were unsure if she was right.'

'But we could tell she was,' the Segunda grinned. 'There were not tens, but hundreds of Hollows, what I would now know to describe as a colony. The place teemed with them, the air writhed, and at sunrise, they all crawled back to the place we easily identified as the core of the infection.'

'Your friend's house,' Ishida whispered.

'If one could still speak of it as such,' Stark shrugged. 'He'd paid a visit to his wife's funeral, but never returned to live there after she killed herself; in truth, we had slipped out of touch, and all I knew of him was that he was happily remarried. The house stood alone, growing monstrously out of the untended garden, and it took us close to a month to even get near. It was not that the Hollows were particularly strong, but that there were many; it was as if they had been pouring out of an continuously open Garganta, drawn into the human world like moths to a flame.'

'No matter how many we'd slay, they'd return in equal numbers during the next night. Though we were never pressed for strength, we seemed to advance only inches, each time, and there were quite a few of us who had begun to fear the Shinigami would eventually take notice. And this time, I think none of dared hope they'd let it pass with a skirmish, for no other reason than that we were so many, and we so openly flaunted the pact…In any event, we decided we had to press somehow and get to the source sooner rather than later – the inflow would not stop until we sealed the Garganta, and purified whatever stood at the center of the madness.'

'During our next attack, we encircled the house, drawing the Hollows outwards, and I, who had the least to lose of them all, used Hirenkyaku to get to the roof.'

'You went alone?' Ishida frowned.

'No one else was suicidal; people had children and families. I had no one and my parents were dead by this time.' Stark shrugged. 'Besides, it is just like you've previously said – some things never change. My Hirenkyaku was the fastest of them all, and it barely left any reiatsu trail; I guess one might even have referred to it as _blinking_' he said, a tremble of bitter amusement in his voice. 'I got through unnoticed. I was even wondering why we hadn't thought of it earlier; we could have saved ourselves a lot of aggravation, and not run the danger of attracting the Shinigami.'

'You see,' the Arrancar followed, shifting positions, 'I had no doubts over the source of the infection. That woman had been so cruel and bitter in her life, that I just _knew _it had to be her. And I took great pleasure at the thought of purifying her.'

'They should not have let you anywhere near that place, if they knew your history,' Ishida said, shaking his head. 'Vengeful intent taints.'

'There are many things one should not do, Uryu,' the Segunda sighed. 'We were Quincy, but we were also human, and while vengeful intent does taint, it holds extraordinary healing powers; last thing you'd want to do is die with unresolved anger. Would you not agree?' Stark bitterly asked, softly tilting his head to the side, to look at Ishida; the young man frowned, but could not contradict.

'I was a bit surprised,' Stark continued, after a few seconds of silence, 'when I found the second floor of the house was almost empty. But for a couple of stray Hollows that were still about, there was nothing, or at least nothing of any impressive size. Still, I could feel something was there, something unlike anything else I had felt thus far. I kept telling myself it was a Menos Grande, but in the back of my mind, I was certain it would not be the case. Their reiatsu howls, it is fully uncontrolled; one can sense them from a mile away, even before they cross. This spiritual pressure was high and it pulsed steadily. Also, to be thoroughly honest, I had never seen a Menos Grande that could fit inside a house.'

'There were more Hollows on the ground floor, but still no trace of the source.'

Stark stretched his fingers on his thigh, pausing a moment before continuing.

'And by the time I made it to the cellar, I understood it was not _the lady._ I just could not bring myself to believe…'

He shook his head and shrugged helplessly.

'Though it made perfect logical sense,' he continued, in a blank tone. 'Nothing could, in fact, make more sense. Lilinette had had so much spiritual power…And she still was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, pure, blinding light, just in front of the darkness of the Garganta.'

'She looked like what humans often describe as a specter, a little, translucent shadow.' Stark whispered. 'Just like they describe the Menos as ghosts – the sheets, the chains…I guess they lack the proper vocabulary to accurately name what their eyes show.'

'She was already a Gillian?' Ishida asked, in a small voice; Stark laughed.

'No, my young friend. She was already an Adjucha. First one I had ever seen, first one I had even heard of.'

'But Adjuchas almost never cross into the human world,' the young man protested.

'No, they don't.' Stark nodded. 'Lilinette didn't cross either. She had never actually left…and bloody hell, she was fast. I didn't even see her come at me; nearly took my head off in the first move, then melted into the wall behind me to dart up from under my feet. I got out of the way, of course, but not even the Hirenkyaku was fast enough to prevent her from touching me. She half burned my left arm and dissolved my bow before I could take aim, though she was barely a foot away.'

'I drew one of the Steele Schneider but it she moved around it – it simple went through her; she was really incorporeal, no Hollow flesh. Just energy. Each time she passed in front of the Garganta, she made it inches wider, and every time she moved away, it receded. It was almost as the thing had opened to swallow her, and that every time she moved in close, it licked its fangs in expectation. The rest of the Hollows had simply, accidentally come through, drawn to her light, and she'd consumed enough of them to make herself evolve...to keep herself out of the Garganta.'

Ishida nodded.

'They say you never know your strength until you truly need it,' Stark whispered. 'The same is true about speed. I had never laid down a Zeichen on my own – I had never truly needed to - but this time, I made it on the first attempt, and I got her, light trapping light. Then, I just stood there, having absolutely no clue what to do. Until she spoke to me.'

'_I was waiting.'_

'I knew she had been.'

'_But they didn't help me wait. They let me go.'_

'I knew that too, perfectly well.'

'_Do you know what I was waiting for?'_

Ishida cringed, biting his lower lip. 'What did you answer?'

'Nothing,' Stark shrugged. 'What could I tell her? I was shocked enough that she could communicate, and then, I could not believe she didn't remember…I answered nothing. I just stood, bathing in her light.'

'_Why will no one tell me what I was waiting for?' _

'She sounded so lost…So helpless. I didn't even realize if I actually heard her, or just imagined hearing her, but…'

'_I asked everyone. But no one would answer. It's like I don't exist…It's like they can't hear me.'_

'Her light was growing faint in the binds of the Zeichen, and I feared it was hurting her, but it was not. She was just settling; for a moment, she even gathered human shape – still featureless light, but it was doubtlessly the shape of her body.'

'_You can't hear me either. You're just like the lady that was here, you cannot hear me; you just look at me, like you see me…But you can't hear me. How can you not? How could she not? I was so close to her, all the time, all the time I was asking, I was screaming, but she didn't answer, she just fled from room to room, and she never answered. She wouldn't tell me what I was waiting for, and then she went away for good, she ran away outside, and she never ever told me. Do you know?'_

'I told her she had been waiting for me. I could feel the thoughts which had been whirring with her energy suddenly quieting down; I thought she had been trying to figure out if I was lying to her, but she simply accepted the answer. Or the memory flickered though her mind. I do not know.'

'_Did you come?'_

'I told her I had, and I swear, for a moment, I actually _felt_ she was happy. She radiated the sweetest, purest light.'

'_I told them you would.'_

'And then, the light faded. Grew cold.'

'_They didn't believe me. They didn't help me. They should have helped me. I wanted to wait just a little bit longer…though it hurt so much…'_

'She curled on the floor, at the center of the Zeichen, and I sat down too.'

'_I know they didn't help me. All I wanted to do was wait for a little bit longer. And I did, I did…but it was such a long time to wait, alone…do you know what I was waiting for? I forgot.'_

'Oh Gods,' Ishida whispered.

'It was only then that I noticed the door that I had come through was gone. You should remember that one, she used it on you when we first met – it is a solid form of Negacion that I have never seen anyone else manifest. It wasn't an illusion, trust me, I actually felt along the wall. It was well and truly gone, the room sealed shut with nothing but me, Lilinette and the pulsing doorway to Hueco Mundo inside it. And if you must know the truth, the moment that I realized that there was no way out, I wasn't frightened for a single instant. In fact, I was unspeakably _happy_.'

Stark smiled wryly.

'Because, if there was truly no door, no one else could follow me in; no one else could see her and, of course…'

'…no one could kill her,' Ishida breathed.

'Why should they have?' Stark snapped, the row of fangs beneath his jaw suddenly lifting to his chin. 'What had _she _done to deserve it? All of them had passed quietly, all of them had flown back to the cycle – the man who had used her as if she had been livestock, the woman who made her existence hell, but she was still there. Why would she out of them all be purified? She was already pure.'

'What were you _thinking_?' Ishida muttered, in true horror. 'You had no right to decide that!'

'Who else had the right to?' the Arrancar snarled, turning his face towards the human boy; his eyes sparkled, not with fury, Ishida suddenly realized, but with the very same insanity that had posessed him centuries before. 'Who else if not me? I was the only one who ever loved her, the only one who ever _saw_ her like she truly was. I could not let them touch her…I thought, maybe, just this once, just this one soul…could be returned to the cycle. That she alone deserved another try at a human life that had so completely, utterly failed her.'

'But I could not give her that. I could not judge her, I could only destroy her.'

'What did you do?' Ishida breathed.

'Nothing spectacular,' Stark shrugged. 'I set the beacon that we were supposed to use to call the Shinigami whenever we cornered a Hollow, I sat back down and waited for them to show.'

'You gave away your position?' the young man whispered. 'Even though you knew all too well that once the Shinigami came, your friends, _our_ clan…'

'If you could think of any other way in which she could have been judged, instead of destroyed, Uryu, I'd be most grateful for a retrospective alternative solution.' Stark answered, letting the silence that followed his words grow ominous and frozen. 'Besides,' he breathed, closing his eyes, and leaning his head back, 'I hoped they would not kill them, though in the back of my mind, the moment that I set up the beacon, I knew exactly what would happen. They did not have to kill them all, though…It was not necessary. But hope and reality are so far apart, Uryu…they did it, nonetheless; when they finally found me, and made it in though the Negacion, their swords were covered in blood. Not black, like the one that now runs through my veins, but red, like the one that flows through yours.'

'They said we did irreparable damage,' Stark followed, frowning as if simply uttering the words had taken a tremendous amount of physical effort. 'Hundreds of souls erased, a true massacre; it would take decades for the balance of the flow to be restored. They said we were a treacherous breed, that they could never risk anything of those dimensions occurring again. And thus, although they did not need to, they killed them all. Just to be safe.'

'Except for me, of course,' the Arrancar whispered. 'Because I had performed _well, _according to the pact. Or something along those lines,' Stark added, coughing to adjust his voice. 'I did not really pay attention – all that I cared for was Lilinette, so I kindly asked them to judge her, then kill me too, if it was not too much of an inconvenience.'

'I have a faint memory of their faces; they meld together, although, once they made the Garganta close and swallow my beautiful, perfect Lilinette, I tried to make it a point out of remembering them all, because, you see, I didn't understand…how…'

'I don't either,' Uryu whispered. 'I couldn't from the moment I saw her, but I guess the Hollow malice was too deep, that once she had been touched…'

Stark nodded, fast, eager to make the young man quiet.

'For her, it would have been better if you…' Ishida's voice trembled and faded.

'Do you not think I know that?' the Arrancar returned, looking at his extended palm. 'Do you think…I do not understand that I selfishly condemned us both to…this?'

He shook his head, gently raising his hand to cut off his own thoughts.

'After the Garganta had closed, and all of them had left, I want out to the garden and laid under the tree, waiting. It was high summer, a beautiful day. I looked up at the sun through the leaves of the apple tree, and I idly wondered if _the lady, her mistress,_ had hung herself on one branch or the other…Do you imagine the edge of the Steele Schneider is cool, Uryu?'

'Sort of,' Ishida answered, softly.

'I assure you, it is hot. Maybe it is just that it was hot under the sun, that noon, or maybe it was the sheer hatred... I was never less grateful for the Quincy code than I was that day; I did not think that I deserved that kind of death, so fast, so clean... A single Steele Schneider stab through the heart, over in a flash. Those who came for me did not even ask me why I did it. If they had been able to immediately kill the soul, they would have, I am sure. I wanted them to. How many things of oneself can one actually betray in a few hours?'

Ishida looked to the side, to Stark's sharp, expressionless features. The Arrancar glanced straight into the darkness, so immobile he might have been mistaken for a statue.

'So here we are,' Stark ended simply. 'Here we all are, yet again.'

The archer nodded, remaining quiet for a few moments longer, feeling as if words had been bubbling in his heart and ascending to his lips for as much as he wished to keep them quiet. The Arrancar had not sounded as if he had been looking for commiseration, and Ishida suspected anything he might have added would be painfully artificial. Still, the words emerged of their own volition.

'I don't know what I would have done, if I was you,' Ishida whispered.

'You do not need to be kind,' Stark returned, gently. 'You would have stuck to the Code, and been a better man for it. Which is, in the end, the conclusion of my pointlessly sincere admission. I hope you now understand my temporary lack of a sense of humor, in Kuchiki's presence, and hopefully your desire of moderating the incident in his favor is gone. Was that not why you followed me out?'

Ishida cranked his nose in childish dismay, and the Arrancar chuckled.

'I am sure you meant to tell me that Kuchiki is a lot kinder than he sounds - that they are not _all_ bad people. And I am sure you are right, and that they are not. But that's the very danger of the company you keep, Uryu. Be wary of them.'

The human drew a trembling, deep breath.

'Do not ever rely on the Shinigami. Never. For any reason or purpose; no matter how they inwardly feel, and how kind they may be as individuals, they will always keep to the moral safety of their laws. As should you.'

'Kurosaki…'Ishida began, clenching his fists – an image of his father had floated through his mind; he needed to exorcise it as he needed to exorcise the words of the ghost beside him. He looked up in surprise, when Stark burst into laughter.

'Kurosaki is fine,' the Arrancar managed, though cold chuckles. 'Keep away from Abarai and his lot…But you can trust Kurosaki; if he is your friend in that group, Uryu, then you have chosen well. A disturbing choice, if we were to judge by the Code alone, but, with some degree of added wisdom and _flexibility_ given by my current condition, I'd say a good choice nonetheless; at least he is not stuck in any moral code. I should have trusted Nellie's nose,' he concluded, almost to himself.

'How so?' the human asked, shaking his head, and finally making the Segunda face him.

'He's not a Shinigami. He cannot be one.' Stark said, frowning in confusion. 'Don't you know?'

'Know what?' Ishida breathed. 'What is with Ichigo?'

'You truly do not know.' Stark kindly smiled. 'But that is alright.' Without turning his head, he softly and reassuringly brushed his hand against Ishida's forearm. 'You'll learn soon enough, I think.'

'What do you mean?' The Quincy asked, in momentous confusion.

'Kurosaki has a little secret,' the Segunda smiled wryly. 'And it is not my secret to tell, so I will not. However, I can tell you this much - if captain Kuchiki has his way, your Ichigo will need more protection from the Shinigami than you do, before the end. Just about as much protection as I shall.'

The Quincy frowned reproachfully, soliciting no more than an arched eyebrow from the Arrancar. Understanding that Stark would truly not give him further clarification, Ishida sighed in surrender and shook his head.

A long, rectangular limb of light stretched between the two as the door to the chamber opened; followed by Kenpachi and Unohana, and then the assortment of vice-captains, Kuchiki Byakuya made his way out. He spared the Quincy and the Arrancar no more than a passing glance, and though his features had not changed expression in the least, Ishida had perceived the glance as sternly disapproving. He almost instinctively straightened his frame and defiantly lifted his chin, not noticing Stark's almost cruelly approving smirk.

* * *

Up next - we return to our regularly scheduled programming. Szayel gets appreciation, and Ishida gets coffee. Can't be all bad.


	37. Democracy

Hello, hello :) Done swinging the pendulum :P

Thank all for reading and especially commenting :) Brightens my day, makes me blonder, and certainly improves Szayel's mood :)

Warnings - haven't put any in a while, but, well, cussing.

_Democracy is the only form of government that assures each nation has exactly the leaders it deserves._

_-- George Bernard Shaw._

Chapter 37 - Where it is shown that a guy with a tragic past is not necessarily a good guy.

* * *

The door had not even closed behind the Shinigami group when Grimmjow stalked out of the room in his turn. With a glance that was as reproachful as Kuchiki's had been, he cursed under his breath, and fell heavily on the floor next to Stark, almost painfully knocking his head on the wall as he leaned back.

A few steps behind the Sexta, Szayel Aporro clenched his hands behind his back and slowly slithered forward. Needing no instructions from him, Lumina rushed over, carrying the pillow he had sat on earlier, and keeping a foot behind its master, as if it had intended to drop it at his feet at the precise right moment.

He did not sit though; he simply stood, glancing down at the two for long, cold seconds.

'You have achieved nothing,' Stark foretold.

'In his defense, tho', 'Lilinette muttered from behind, 'he really did try.'

It was the first time, Ishida thought, that he actually saw her walking; most of the time before that he'd seen her jumping, running, bouncing on things or using Sonido when it was entirely inappropriate.

Szayel looked at her, clearly surprised by the words, then coughed, bringing his folded fingers to his lips before adjusting his glasses.

'Let me guess what _we_ have decided,' Stark sighed. 'I am going to retrieve Inoue Orihime.'

Szayel Aporro nodded.

'A hard line could perhaps have been avoided if you had not gone for Kuchiki's jugular,' he dryly responded, finally sitting down – Lumina put the pillow on the floor in perfect sequence, then darted away, looking positively exhilarated in spite of the fact that her master had not even acknowledged its presence.

Stark did not deign to respond. He instead shifted to the side, to accommodate Lilinette.

'Ya OK?' she asked, in a low whisper. Stark nodded. 'Chilled yet?' He nodded again, and looked through Szayel Aporro, to Neliel Tu, who undecidedly stood in the doorway.

'Hey, Nellie,' he said, with a little grin. 'Honeymoon with the Shinigami already over?'

The woman smirked, but remained silent for another moment, visibly hesitating between following Ichigo and staying back. She approached, nonetheless.

'There are no words to express how angry I am at you,' she finally uttered, when she was within earshot. Stark shrugged.

'I like it a lot better when you're angry at Szayel Aporro. In an equally pointless manner, I might add…' he said.

'No, seriously,' Neliel muttered, not taking notice of his words and letting herself fall on the floor to Ishida's side; her sudden physical proximity made Szayel inch away. 'Is there a single skirt in the entirety of Las Noches that you haven't looked under?'

Ishida blushed, as did the Octava; in his turn, Stark shrugged again.

'All of you wear pants,' he blankly replied, his very correct observation rewarded by a sharp jab to the ribs from Lilinette. 'It is true, I say!' he protested. 'The only one who does wear a skirt is Mira Rose, and whatever is under there is of no interest to me...'

'You pissed, Grimmjow?' he asked, casting a side glance at the teal haired Arrancar, who had not made the slightest movement since he'd sat down. 'No reason why you would be,' Stark muttered.

'I beg to differ,' Szayel Aporro shot, in return. 'Just in case Ulquiorra's unflappable demeanor went to your head, Stark, let me reiterate the finer points of our current situation – on one hand, we have Aizen, who is probably converting the entire universe into Numeros, as we speak. On the other, we have captain Kuchiki, who now would like nothing better than your head on a spike, and, by glorious association, my head…'

'Our heads,' Neliel Tu corrected, in a poisonous tone.

'You will excuse me if the relevance of _your_ heads' position is reduced to insignificance when compared to the relevance of _mine_,' Szayel muttered. 'If you do not go for Inoue Orihime, Kuchiki and crew will withdraw, in no uncertain terms; though I am absolutely overjoyed at the fact that Mayuri Kurosutchi was clearly as popular among his peers as he made himself here, he will lend no further leverage. I even tried that.'

'I think we should take Kuchiki's threats with a grain of salt.' Neliel answered flatly, her words reinforced by Ishida's stern nod. 'Ichigo would not leave.'

'I am sure you can die in each others' arms, in a proper tragic manner,' Grimmjow snarled, not opening his eyes. 'Won't make no difference. Kuchiki clearly let Kurosaki enter Hueco Mundo alone. There's no reason to assume he won't spit Kurosaki like a rotten egg.'

'I vaguely remember making that observation a while ago,' Stark sighed.

'Dude, could you fucking be _less_ chilled?' Grimmjow growled, finally sitting straight. 'They got us with our balls in a wrench here!'

'Excuse me for being yet again unconstructive,' Stark replied, 'but I also seem to remember the three of you fiercely arguing with me about how active cooperation with the Shinigami was a marvelous idea. Did I dream that, Lilinette?' he rhetorically asked.

'Nope,' she answered, shaking her head.

'So, may I be excused for feeling superiorly amused while the three of you whine?' the Segunda shrugged.

'Is this going to be an intellectual masturbation moment?' Szayel Aporro inquired, sweetly. 'Because it is horrendously ill-timed.'

'No, it's a 'You have all the strategic vision of a weed' moment,' Lilinette snapped, in Stark's stead. 'This was fucking predictable, that's what it was!'

'You have a brain the size of a shriveled fig. Allow me to explain what else was fucking predictable,' Szayel responded, obviously losing his temper. 'If we had not gotten this far, Kuchiki would have returned to the Sereitei immediately after we captured Ulquiorra, and, after the show Kenpachi put on, not even my tower would have kept us from hanging over Gin's mantelpiece, at the moment. As is, we are still alive and we are slowly inching forward.'

'_If_ Stark goes out on a limb _again_, and gets the chick.' The Fraccion said, scowling. 'Tis all rather convenient for ya, ain't it, Szayel Aporro?'

'None of us is hoppin' and skippin' with joy, kiddo,' Grimmjow replied.

'Yeh, but none of y'all has got to go an' show Aizen the middle finger,' she stubbornly responded.

'Let us not be overly dramatic.' Szayel Aporro began, in the soft, sensuous purr that always indicated he had what he doubtlessly thought was a masterful idea. 'That can be easily avoided by saying you could not reach her; granted, that might not necessarily be the best course of action. But before I elaborate,' he continued, with his sweetest, most seductive smile, 'shall we play a little game of spot the element that does not fit in the picture? I would suggest, the living human sitting in the circle?'

'Eh,' Uryu exclaimed, drawing back and almost darting to his feet. The sudden realization of the fact that he was, indeed, sitting amid five Arrancar, and that, oddly enough, he felt genuinely at ease struck him with the force of a solid object. 'I do not have to be here…'

'Very subtle, Szayel Aporro,' Stark chuckled. 'The only less subtle thing would have been asking him to leave so we can plot in peace.'

'Indeed,' the Octava sweetly muttered. 'Ishida Uryu, would you mind withdrawing so we can plot in peace?'

The archer swallowed dry, and stubbornly clenched his teeth, desperately trying to keep his lower jaw from hanging in surprise in a manner that would have made him painfully resemble Kurosaki. Fortunately, he was spared the embarrassment of having to respond.

'He's harmless,' Stark said, softly. 'He has as many friends upstairs as Neliel Tu does. You might as well kick her out.'

'Perhaps. But that simply means he is neither strong enough, nor well connected enough to provide _any_ assistance,' Szayel muttered.

'He still may have a different perspective on all of this mess. What do you think, Uryu?' the Segunda asked. 'Is there any actual merit in retrieving Inoue Orihime? Logical argument, if you please.'

'She's my friend,' the Quincy answered softly. 'She is why I am here…'

'That ain't logical, kid,' Grimmjow sneered. 'Logical would be, she fucking resurrected Menoly after I blew off half her body with a Cero. Upper half, for more precision,' he added, with a grin in Szayel Aporro's direction. The Octava predictably gasped.

'That is anatomically impossible!' he shrieked, sounding personally offended.

'An' still, dude,' Grimmjow, 'it happened. Nellie girl is good with her…' he gestured wildly, clearly trying to avoid the word _snot_, 'but she ain't that good.'

'I am taking it, Grimmjow, you think having the girl on our side is not entirely useless?' Stark asked, arching an eyebrow.

'Quite the contrary, I think she'd be mighty useful. I think you oughta get her, an' get her now.'

'The words 'Grimmjow' and 'think' sit uncomfortably in the same sentence,' Szayel Aporro sighed. For the first time, Grimmjow did not respond; he simply looked up and smirked. 'Even if by some universal failure of logic what he just described is an actual event, and not a result of him getting hit over the head one time too many, I still do not fancy a trip to the human world in the Gotei's illustrious company. Especially since Kuchiki is not too eager to make promises.'

'Unohana seems like a kind person,' Neliel said, thoughtfully. 'She healed Grimmjow, so, I'd say…'

She shrugged.

'Should we vote?' she asked; Grimmjow slapped his forehead, to poignantly show his mistrust in democratic proceedings.

'Vote?' he muttered. 'What's there to vote on?'

'Don't see how else we're going to decide,' Neliel Tu answered, a mild twinge of irritation in her voice. 'We can sit here chatting for as long as you like, but we have until morning…'

'We have a _deadline_?' Stark suddenly perked. 'Are you fucking kidding me?'

'Sadly,' Szayel Aporro smirked, 'I am not in a humorous mood.'

'You let him give us a _deadline_?' the Segunda continued, waving his words away.

'There was precious little I could do when you stalked out and demonstrated we are not even inwardly aligned,' the Octava hissed. 'We have until dawn to agree or disagree with getting Inoue Orihime. Should we fail to produce a response, they will withdraw to the Sereitei.'

'Bloody hell!' Stark snapped.

'We can still stall,' Szayel Aporro pleaded.

'What the fuck for?' Grimmjow snarled. 'Makes no difference if you go get her now or in six hours.'

'It makes a world of difference if Inoue Orihime is in our loving midst before or _after_ the Garganta are sealed, and, instead of hauling us over to the human world, captain Cherry Blossom becomes a semi-permanent guest of our hospitable realm.' Szayel answered, slowly, as if he had been addressing mentally addled children.

'Wha'd he say?' Lilinette frowned, tugging on Stark's sleeve.

'I said – getting Inoue Orihime before the Garganta are sealed and the Shinigami can leave: _baaad_. Getting her back when they can't leave: _gooood!_' Szayel Aporro recited.

'What?' Uryu and Neliel exclaimed, in the same breath.

'You've heard me,' he rebelliously muttered. 'Don't gawk. It's disgraceful.'

Before anyone could react, he extracted his white controller and clicked it, bringing a new, solid sheet of metal down over the laboratory entrance. 'Well,' he shrugged, to the sudden flicker of fright in Ishida's eyes, 'you did not leave when I advised you to. Now you get to enjoy our company for a little while longer. Not for too long, I assure you; I have no deception in mind. Or well, no way of keeping the deceit up for too long,' he corrected, with a wide smile. 'I would however prefer we kept this segment of the conversation from Kuchiki's perfectly shaped ears until we have reached a decision. In exchange for your temporary cooperation,' Szayel innocently purred, 'I can offer you coffee.'

'Real coffee?' Ishida sighed in defeat; he saw no point in arguing, and he found he was quite interested in the conversation. 'Not an imitation thereof?'

'You're cheap, Uryu,' Lilinette giggled warmly.

'I have not slept in two days,' Ishida murmured. 'Coffee would be most welcome…'

Szayel nodded, and Verona quietly withdrew in the shadows.

'So what's this about you sealing the Garganta?' Neliel asked.

'Did I say – me?' the Octava smirked, arching an ironic eyebrow. 'I am referring to Aizen. Though, of course,' he sighed, 'the finer components of the technology are of my making…'

'Why would he do that?' Neliel interrupted, with a frown that showed she was not in the mood for giving Szayel Aporro any sort of gratification.

'I gather you have not shared our vision of Aizen's intentions with captain Kuchiki?' Stark inquired, his concentrated stare making it clear that his question superseded Neliel's. The Octava shrugged.

'It is the only minor tactical advantage we still have,' he answered. 'I saw no reason to renounce it for the moment.'

'It's admirable you thought of that…' Stark remarked, genuinely sounding impressed.

'After everyone else stopped thinking and went into whining, cursing or bitching sprees? Woefully familiar territory,' the Octava whispered; light gleamed across his mask as he pushed it upwards on his nose, and Ishida could not truly discern if the pink-haired Arrancar had even considered the acknowledgement. 'In any event,' he sighed, addressing Neliel, 'myself and Stark are going by the theory that Aizen has no genuine use for Inoue Orihime other than dividing the Gotei. I think Kuchiki fears the same, which is why he is so eager to retrieve the girl fast, or not at all.'

'And you're thinking Aizen will actually seal them in Hueco Mundo?' Stark asked, with a small frown.

'He has the means of doing so,' Szayel shrugged, shifting slightly to the side to allow Ishida to pick up his coffee cup. 'I provided him with certain pieces of circuitry that could only be used to impede cross-world travel. And he certainly is not expecting them to stay of their own accord,' he added, after a second of watching the human inhale the aroma of the brew as if it had been ambrosia.

The Segunda scratched his goatee, and shot a questioning glance at Lilinette.

'Well if he can, why ain't he done it yet?' she asked, in his stead.

''Cuz he doesn't think he can beat us, if they stick around.' Grimmjow answered, his eyes narrowed to the size of knife blades. 'Don't think he was counting on facing nine on either side of the fence, and definitely not with five on his side. D'ya think he can tell you can't evolve no more?' he thoughtfully asked the Segunda.

'Even I didn't know I couldn't evolve anymore,' Stark muttered.

'That was quite predictable,' Szayel shrugged. 'If you had asked me, I would have told you that what the Hougyaku took, only the Hougyaku can return. Sadly you did not ask, and I am not in the habit of volunteering information.'

Stark glanced up, with an unreadable expression.

'Yes,' he answered softly. 'It is one of your more loveable qualities.'

'So maybe he thinks now that you ate Ulquiorra, you're even more bad-ass than you were before,' Lilinette smirked, poking the tip of her tongue out at Neliel, who'd scowled reproachfully. 'An' he figures that the longer he keeps the doors open, the more chances there are the Shinigami will turn tail and run.'

'How can he guarantee you won't follow?' Ishida asked. His question fell like a small pebble on a marble floor, and all glances incredulously turned to him.

'Hee!' Szayel Aporro snickered. 'You're awake, Quincy!'

'Yes, well, ahem,' Ishida returned, in a far less self assured voice than he would have liked. He took another sip of the coffee, before lifting the cup in the form of a tiny salute. 'I can still taste it is synthetic,' he said in an innocent tone, to Szayel's overly curious glance, and the Octava snickered again.

'At least it contains caffeine' he said, shrugging in amused defeat; Ishida smiled timidly in return. 'Aizen knows us a lot better than any of us would like,' Szayel reiterated, curling his knees on the pillow. 'I am never overly keen on leaving my tower…'

'Yeh, cuz in the world outside, you're a bug,' Grimmjow muttered.

'No,' Szayel responded, between clenched teeth. 'Because in here, I am a God.' He snappily added. 'He's very certain we would not rush to follow into the human world because he probably knows the Gotei won't offer any guarantees. Needless to say, none of us except for Neliel Tu is known for their blindly trusting nature.'

'So, let's do a recount,' Stark yawned. 'If Kuchiki goes home, with or without Inoue, we're through. Maybe the Shinigami will beat Aizen in the end, but that's of little relevance to us. On the other hand, if we cross over, we might get used as shields or killed in the aftermath. Neither they, nor us, are willing to take any chances - that's the main disadvantage of a troop entirely made of captains,' he snickered. 'Nobody can really be sent to die for the greater good.'

'The only way _you_ detachedly win,' Ishida thoughtfully said, finding the simple existence of a planning session was a welcome change from Kurosaki's normal behavior, 'is if Kuchiki is stuck here _and _Aizen attacks in the human world first. In that case, he'd either get crushed there, and you would have nothing to worry about, or he would be sufficiently weak for you to defeat him here.'

'Oh, you really are awake,' Szayel giggled. 'Yet, you forget one possibility - we also detachedly win if Aizen attacks us first, but we have a person who is capable of resurrecting anything bound to our side. As I am sure none of you can even imagine, there are endless advantages to being unkillable.'

'So, what do you wanna do, dude?' Grimmjow muttered. 'Pray that there's a shift in power overnight, and Aizen seals the Garganta of his own accord?'

'I am sure he's actively looking to replace Ulquiorra,' Szayel shrugged. 'Or any one of us, I guess…If he can find suitable replacements, or just feel safe with numbers, he will seal the Garganta. All we need to do is stall Kuchiki for long enough.'

'Those are a lot of variables to align, Szayel Aporro,' Ishida said, softly. 'You need for Aizen to find what he is looking for _and_ do so in the next few hours, _and_ seal the Garganta, _and_ attack the human world…_and _find an opening to get to Orihime…all in a limited time.'

'Not necessarily,' Stark frowned. 'We can stall even longer; we can give them a response in the final minute of the final hour. If Aizen doesn't move by then, we could try to press events a bit - provided I can reach her, I could get Orihime and take her for a lovely desert walk. I'm definitely better at conversation than Ulquiorra, I am sure I would not bore her in a couple of hours. Once he loses her, Aizen will definitely cut any pathways out of Hueco Mundo.'

'I ain't down with this,' Grimmjow muttered. 'Longer we wait, more Adjucas he turns, deeper shit we're in. Let's just fucking do this. What does it matter if it's in the human world or here? If you're so hell bent on thinkin' the Shinigami are gonna have our heads, what's to stop 'em from turning coming back for us? How much worse could it get?'

'I agree. The last thing we need is to dig ourselves in even deeper with yet another deception,' Neliel frowned. 'Does it occur to you,' she sighed, 'that the reason why captain Kuchiki is so uneager to offer us any promises is because we've constantly proven unpredictable?'

'I beg to differ,' Stark snarled. 'If we had been nicer, we'd have grown pretty wings like Szayel Aporro…'

'What was your stunt with Ulquiorra, then?' she hissed; Lilinette rolled her eye.

'That really sucks, Nellie,' the Fraccion muttered. 'I don't like it better than you, but ya're talking like you ain't got no garlic on your breath.'

'It made him look absolutely ruthless and amoral,' Neliel continued, frowning deeply.

'Yes, well, at some point, image has to catch up to reality…' Szayel Aporro remarked, with a little satisfied sigh.

'Shut up, Szayel Aporro!' the former Tercera spat. 'I expect all of this pleases you immensely – I doubt you've done anything from the front in your entire existence. I disagree with this plan. It is risky in the short term, and a recipe for ruin in the long run. Even if it works, we'll have pushed the Shinigami's patience for us to its very limits. There's no way we can expect to get away in the end.' She finished, giving Szayel Aporro a murderous stare. 'I think Kuchiki has been honest so far, even if brutally so. We should at least try to be honest in our turn, and actually talk to him and Unohana…'

'Were you not just in the side room doing that, without accomplishing anything?' Stark ironically asked. 'No, no,' he laughed, 'you _did_ accomplish something: you got us a deadline by which to comply.'

'That's because we were yet again dishonest,' Neliel sighed. 'Did the thought of actually telling them what you think Aizen intends even pass through your head, Szayel Aporro?'

'No,' the Octava answered, carefully.

'Then that is what we should do,' the woman decisively said. 'We should go upstairs, explain the exact situation, and stop hiding. We cannot expect them to rely on us on the battlefield if we keep holding back information.'

'I believe their plan is to rely on us a little too much,' Szayel answered.

'And speaking of honesty, Nellie…' Stark began, slowly. 'Your openness drive would have nothing to do with getting on Kurosaki's sweet side?'

'You have no right to ask that,' she rebelliously muttered.

'It's a legitimate question,' the Segunda smirked. 'If you were a man, I would tell you you're thinking with your balls.'

'Screw this,' she whispered. 'I will not be a part of Szayel Aporro's backstabbing schemes, and you should be ashamed of yourself for even considering it, Stark.'

'It's all in the correct angle, Nellie,' he responded, without anger. 'I am looking for the correct angle.'

'And it does not strike you like the correct angle might be facing the enemy, in fair combat?' she furiously asked.

'Like you did Nnoitra?' Stark laughed; she darted to her feet, cheeks and eyes in flames.

'You know what?' Neliel Tu breathed. 'Grimm's right, there's no need to vote and no need to debate this further. We're not doing this.' She stated, her voice suddenly cool and flat. 'We are not going to stall, and we are not going to lie. Not anymore.'

'What do you think you are doing, Nellie?' Stark asked, without even sounding surprised.

'Going upstairs,' she snapped, turning on her heels. 'We are done talking here.'

His Hierro closed around her, rising from the floor and solidifying in an instant; Ishida barely had the time to acknowledge the movement of Stark's reiatsu. He felt Neliel's next, stinging, acidic rays radiating from her standing figure, and looping dangerously between her clenched fists; it was only seconds later that he actually perceived Szayel's as well, almost as if the flat, delicate ribbons had been caressing his skin.

'I'm not afraid of you,' Neliel said, in a voice that showed she clearly wasn't. 'You can writhe your tentacles at me all you like; I can get through your Hierro, and I know you won't come after me.'

'Won't I?' Stark dreamily asked.

'No. Regardless of anything else you might be, you've been my friend since the day I was made. You brought me back from the shape in which Szayel's treachery put me, and though you have your hang-ups and sharp corners, you'd never really put me in harm's way more than you would Lilinette. I know it, and you know it.'

To Ishida's surprise, Grimmjow lowered his head and snickered in a way the Quincy could not quite place.

'I am unsure, Neliel Tu,' the Segunda followed; within the confines of the Hierro, the woman's knees trembled. 'We've never been in a situation where you threatened to put me in the hands of a bunch of people I despise. You wanted a democratic decision; we're four, and we are split. Do you want Lilinette to have a vote?'

'…I fucking should, too…' the Fraccion mumbled.

'As if we don't bloody know where that's gonna go, kiddo,' Grimmjow sneered. Lilinette simply latched on to Stark's arm and made a horrible face in Sexta's direction.

'If I had a vote, I'd go with the honest approach,' Ishida put in, shyly.

'Well, when you're dead and an Espada, you'll get a vote. Stick to the honest approach with Shinigami, and in a couple hundred years, you just might,' Stark answered dryly. 'For the moment, though, we are four. Two of us want to die after they demonstrate some intelligence, the other two want to die without even trying to. From my point of view, this conversation will be over when we have a majority decision.'

'No,' Neliel Tu returned. 'I stand where I stand – regardless of what you choose to do, and when you choose to do it, I refuse to let them become trapped here.'

'But you have no similar qualms with us, I take it,' the Segunda observed, as Neliel's right knee suddenly jerked forward under the pressure. Ishida frowned, but Stark paid him no heed, just as he paid no heed to Lilinette's painful grip on his arm.

'You have a choice of action.' She answered. 'As long as you keep them in the dark, they don't.' Her voice had trembled ever so slightly, however, and a clear bead of sweat had slipped down her cheek and on the soft curve of her neck.

'Dude, you're seriously fucked up,' Grimmjow snarled, jumping to his feet in his turn.

'Stay out of it, kitty, lest you've changed your vote already.' Stark warned, in such a calm voice that Ishida shuddered and unwillingly drew back. 'I am trying to enforce a democratic process; I am not asking Neliel to change her opinion. I am asking her to discuss it. Perhaps she may end up changing my mind. What is it, Neliel? What makes you so confident? Share it with me,' he sneered, 'so I become confident as well. Do you perhaps think he'll take you to Soul Society, or to the human world, in the end of it all?'

'As a matter of fact, he has already said he would,' Nel whispered. Her shoulders still straight despite the obvious pressure, she spun around to face him; she no longer looked furious, but heartrendingly sad. 'If you could just bring yourself to trust Ichigo, he'd trust you,' she said, softly. 'He'd speak on your behalf, if Kuchiki truly intended to…'

'He would,' Ishida breathed – Stark laughed, throwing his head back, with the same crawling, creepy echo that had terrified the archer on their first encounter.

'I am very sure _Ichi-kun_ would,' the Segunda managed to articulate. 'What neither of you seems to get is that once the battle starts, and Ichi-kun shows his new tricks to his old friends, he won't be in any position to speak on his own behalf.'

Grimmjow drew a sudden, deep breath.

'You know what I'm talking about, kitty. And Neliel does too; she was there when he fought Ulquiorra. She saw it as well. So let's not _fucking _pretend Kurosaki can do anything for us. You know he can't. This discussion is about the Shinigami alone.'

The Sexta looked to the floor, his fingers clenched on Pantera's hilt – Neliel too remained chillingly silent.

'Any changed votes?' Stark asked, in a tone that struggled to be indifferent. Grimmjow was the first to slowly shake his head.

'No way. I don't wanna stall because I'm tired of jerking off cold, and I don't think it makes any difference where we fight. I ain't waiting to be rescued.'

'This discussion is over,' Neliel whispered; she turned away once more, this time obviously struggling to keep on her feet. 'Do you want me to draw against you?'

The words came in a cut-off breath.

'I will, I swear,' Nel whimpered. Propping her shoulder against the barrier, she advanced an inch. 'You cannot stop me from doing what is _right_.'

'The hell I can't,' Stark finally snarled; the white blot on his jaw suddenly pulsed and extended, and Neliel unwillingly yelped, falling to one knee. 'Let's see you draw,' he breathed. 'Let's see how far it takes you.'

Within a flash, Gamuza left her scabbard; Ishida had not even registered the movement. The blade had simply gleamed on the edges of his vision, splitting the air in a swift circular movement as Neliel stood and spun round. It was the last thing he actually saw before Stark's furious reiatsu swept him back. Despite the daze, he darted to his feet, noticing that Lilinette had wisely retreated to the opposite corner of the chamber – or perhaps, the Quincy thought, feeling his heart was lodged in his throat, that was where the mere tension of the Espada's reiatsu had pushed her. He worriedly turned to Neliel, suspecting that whatever had happened to him and Lilinette had been the simple shockwave, not the actual hit.

Ishida frowned.

Surrounded by a faint aura, that still crackled and writhed with dark energy, Szayel Aporro stood between Stark and Neliel, who'd fallen to her knees. In spite of the fact that his shield had taken most of the blow, and of the fact that Fornicares was defensively placed along his raised left arm, the Octava's sleeve was burned and stained with blood. Somewhere behind, Lumina and Verona screamed in unison.

'What is it, Szayel Aporro?' Stark snickered, in a voice that was surprisingly deprived of malice. 'You also want to do the right thing?'

'No,' the Octava painstakingly exhaled. 'I want to change my vote.'

'It was your idea,' Stark reminded; to Ishida's slowed down mind, the Segunda had sounded almost amused. Nonetheless, as suddenly as it had surfaced, the pressure of Stark's reiatsu was gone.

'Please,' Szayel Aporro breathed.

The Segunda defensively lifted his palms, and, within a flash, his Hierro stopped imprisoning Neliel; Szayel Aporro wasted no time in lifting the sheet of metal that covered the door. She had barely glanced at him before she hasted out, and he did not turn around to watch her leave.

'And now you let her go, just like that!' Grimmjow exclaimed, landing and looking at Stark in tremendous confusion.

'What can I say,' Stark answered, not taking his eyes of Szayel Aporro. 'I truly am a firm believer in democracy, even when it leads to the most obviously wrong choices.'

Szayel Aporro was still shaking, yet Ishida knew better than to imagine that it was with fear or pain. No – it was something worse. Renouncing his idea must have felt like cutting off a limb, and, judging by the look on Stark's features, which was an incredible mixture of pity and disappointment, the Segunda must have known it too.

'Szayel Aporro,' Stark began softly. 'Do you wonder if she might not have skipped _you_ if only you had bigger balls than she does?'

'Often,' the Octava answered, in a voice that cracked like a dry twig. The reply did not leave much room for more words.

His shield finally stopped buzzing, and he turned around, fluidly clenching his fingers behind his back.

'Where are you going?' Ishida asked, in spite of himself. When Szayel's glance met his, he could have sworn he saw a little flicker of a smile in the gold depth.

'To change my clothes,' the Octava snickered. '_And _exfoliate.'

A small hesitation.

'I doubt I can control Gabriel from the human world. I will be damned if I die in an outfit that's torn, and with clogged pores to boot. Fortunately,' he added, suddenly grinning wide, 'I am sure I will not live long enough to get wrinkles.'

He disappeared into the corridor that led to his bedroom before Ishida could utter another word, and the Quincy's attention turned to Stark, who slowly stood, and shoved his hands in his pockets, after a long and regretful yawn.

'I cannot shake the feeling that I am to blame for all this,' Stark said, to no one in particular. 'None of this would be happening if I could still grow.'

The Segunda shrugged.

'Will you go for Orihime right now?' Ishida asked, trying his best not to sound hopeful, but failing miserably.

'I still need an hour,' Stark answered, softly, running his fingers over the patch of white skin without truly touching it. 'I'm not trying to delay,' he added, when the archer looked doubtful. 'I respect a commonly made decision, but I am not done…'

'…digesting,' Ishida whispered, shuddering at the word. Stark contented himself on a nod, then headed for one of the two tall windows in the very back of the dark laboratory.

'Is there anything left of the man you once were?' the Quincy inquired, the question leaving his lips as if it had had a soul of its own.

Stark looked over his shoulder.

'Except for her,' he said, with a small smile, tilting his head to indicate Lilinette, who stood facing Szayel Aporro's panels as if the rest of the Universe had been too painful to behold, 'not much.'

He slithered though the glass of the window, and disappeared into the darkness.

'Bloody fucking hell!' Grimmjow exploded, making the young human jolt out of his dreamy state. He headed for Ishida as if he'd meant to slap him, and the Quincy unwillingly drew back. 'That's why too much thinking ain't good,' the Sexta snarled. 'It fucks you up, up here!' he menacingly growled, pointing to his temple. With another loud, long, and unspeakably creative curse, he headed out into the corridor, on Neliel's trail.

* * *

Up next - Opportunity knocks.


	38. Prisonner's Dilemma

Good evening everyone. You must be wondering what is happening with the unusually short chapter, hmm? Well, read on, and find out :) I do hope you will like it, and leave me reviews, for which I will be very, very greatful, as always :)

Chapter 38 - Where the world turns.

_Prisoner's Dilemma_

_Two suspects in a capital murder are arrested by the police. The police have insufficient evidence for a conviction, and, having separated both prisoners, visit each of them to offer the same deal. If one testifies ("defects") for the prosecution against the other and the other remains silent, the betrayer goes free and the silent accomplice receives the death penalty. If both remain silent, both prisoners are sentenced to only six months in jail for a minor charge. If each betrays the other, each receives a life sentence. Each prisoner must choose to betray the other or to remain silent. Each one is assured that the other would not know about the betrayal before the end of the investigation. How should the prisoners act?_

* * *

He had become aware of the other's presence only when he stood in front of the door; the sekki stone had marvelously done its job. Still, hand on the pressure plate that served as a doorknob, he did not feel tempted to go back. Stark's reiatsu felt extremely distant, and Grimmjow's had vanished altogether, as if the Sexta had left the tower. It made perfect sense, Szayel thought, hesitating for a moment before opening the door to his bedroom and facing into his doubts; Grimmjow had never been able to tolerate the presence of people who tried to remind him that fear was, in the end, healthy. That was why he'd always gotten along so well with Illfordt. Illfordt had never been afraid a single time in his life.

Or maybe, just in the split second before dying.

_That would explain the sudden dent in his reiatsu reading_, Szayel thought, then nodded to himself.

He wondered what his voice would sound like – he did not truly have any interest or mental strength to even attempt to act, and, if he was to be thoroughly honest with himself, he barely had any idea what kind of act would be the wisest under the circumstances. He therefore decided to utter the words without trying to impress any sort of nuance.

'Good evening, Kaname.'

* * *

Grimmjow hissed at the white silhouette in the distance, recognizing its reiatsu in a single whiff. He felt the hair on the back of his neck bristle, and he flexed his fingers, as if the feline within had meant to unsheathe its claws.

Indifferent to the threat, the figure approached, walking slowly and unhurriedly towards the Sexta. He was close enough for the blade to reach, Grimmjow thought, baring his canines in spite of the fact he was assured the other was too far to see the gesture. Or perhaps not.

'C'mon, Grimmjow. Is tha' any way to greet an ol' pal?'

Indeed, it wasn't; that was why, without lending his actions any further thought, Grimmjow pulled Pantera out of its sheath.

'You're not my pal, Ichimaru,' he snarled.

'Ya know,' Ichimaru Gin sighed, his smiling features managing to express deep sorrow. 'That well an' truly breaks my heart.'

* * *

'_Extra ecclesias nulla salus,' _Stark said. 'Nothing succeeds outside the church.'

The crescent moon lurked evenly above, veiled by a soft, shredded cloud. If Lilinette had been by his side, she would have said the cloud looked like a horse head. He would have disagreed; to him, it simply looked like a cloud. She would have sneered and told him he had no imagination – with that, he would have agreed.

Sometimes, however, if he looked at the desert in the perfect angle, he could almost imagine it looked like the sea. Given enough time for contemplation – and time was something that Hueco Mundo posessed in abundance – one could actually see the dunes shift with the winds, a landscape that should have been frozen, but instead always managed to look new. The only constant were the petrified trees, which always stayed in place, stretching their pleading limbs towards a heavens that would never grant their prayer for rain.

As no other prayers were granted.

The other man's kind smile did not falter, as the Segunda turned to face him.

'It is good,' Aizen said, with a sweet, polite bow of his head, 'that you have finally understood that. I also hope that you have gained enough wisdom to accept it.'

* * *

In a Prisonner's Dilemma game, each of the players acts in his individual logical best interest. In the classic form of this game, cooperating is always worse than defecting; why would one remain loyal, knowing that if the others defect, they may die? Thus, no matter what the other players do, the _individual_ player will always gain a greater payoff by betraying the others. Since in any situation playing _defect_ is more beneficial than cooperating, all rational players will betray_,_ all things being equal.

Let the games begin.

* * *

**Non-Bleach Commentary**: Ironically, all players acting in their individual best interest leads them to bury each other. This sub-optimal equilibrium is called a Nash Equilibrium, after mathematician John Nash. For a super simple, correct and hilarious illustration of this game theory concept, go to You Tube and look up 'A beautiful mind, Nash's Equilibrium'. Watch the three minute sequence. I promise it is worth it.

As an end note, though the concept of a Nash equilibrium has revolutionized modern economics, and is arguably one of the greatest logical revolutions of the 20th century, John Nash was denied a Nobel prize in economics at the time of his discovery, because of his rampant paranoid schizophrenia and never proven hints at bisexuality. It took some 50 years for the Nobel committee to recover from _their_ insanity, and he finally received his prize in 1994.

To my knowledge, in spite of the fact that he has been off anti-psychotic medication for some thirty years and is, by all accounts, very eccentric, he continues to hold a honorary tenure at Princeton University.

Just in case you thought Szayel Aporro was the only mad scientist around.


	39. User Friendly

Hello all!

Thank you so much for reading and commenting :) I shall take some liberties in the next chapter. Not as many as in the previous evil chapters, but...quite a few. Thus

Warnings: Er, yes. Hints at guys fancying other guys. I hope you didn't imagine Tousen with a halo.

Chapter 39 - Where all paladins are _gay._

(...well, someone needed to say that...)

Chapter title inspired by Marilyn Manson's omonimous song. Shy to quote, it but oddly fitting :)

* * *

He did not have time to unsheathe Fornicares, though he did reach for her hilt. An entirely pointless gesture, with his still injured left arm. The Shinigami's wheight pinned him to the wall, the swift knee to the stomach cutting off Szayel's breath as Tousen leaned in to place his zanpakutoh's edge under the other man's chin.

'I am not even disappointed in you,' Tousen said. Nonetheless, his blind fingers reached for the Octava's face, separating a pink strand from the rest and delicately running along its length, before finding their way down the side of Szayel's neck, and making him shudder.

'You're a sinner. You're made of sin, and you corrupt others to it.'

Szayel bit his lower lip, thankful for the fact that Tousen could not see him. Though the gesture could have been interpreted as holding back lust – or at least Cirucci always seemed to interpret it that way – it was nothing more than biting back words.

It always began and ended like that with Tousen; the phrase was initially a method of distancing himself from the act which then followed without fail, as well as an ablution when it was all over. It was as if the words had had the power of separating the Shinigami's mind from his body, then return it to its place once the sin had been placed with the appropriate culprit and the two could be reconciled again. Because, of course, Kaname Tousen could never be blamed of wanting _this_, whatever this was – homosexual intercourse, or just intercourse in general. It was disorderly, vicious, and, albeit briefly, did cause him to lose sight of greater virtues. And even this temporary loss of sanity had to be blamed on some form of irresistible, shameless evil, something that lured and corrupted beyond resistance and logic - Szayel Aporro fit the part to perfection. Or rather, he had never truly protested being cast to it.

He was adaptive. Some might have described him as submissive, but it did not truly matter. He could be dominant as well. Unlike many other things in his conscious existence, climax had never lost all its magic – the way in which one arrived to it was of little importance to Szayel Aporro, therefore he seldom protested and even more seldom refused. Tousen had not even required as much mental effort and control as Cirucci, mainly because he was silent – and even though he too enjoyed causing pain sometimes, he never mocked while he did it. He probably would have crumbled with shame at the sound of his own voice.

'I would never forgive you this treason,' Tousen said, running his index along the Octava's collarbone, over the soft silk. 'I would kill you. I would kill you and make sure that you could never return. Vile creatures such as yourself don't deserve to live.'

To any other person, in any other conditions, Szayel Aporro would have stingingly replied that he was already dead. Perhaps, but a few weeks before, he would have said it to Tousen as well; the current circumstances showed it would not have been wise – they _must _have known he was modeling their reiatsu, they _must _have understood that he would never enter combat without leverage, but they had never let him suspect a thing. He'd grown too confident by the end of it all.

'You do not deserve the life Aizen-sama chose to give you. You don't deserve his forgiveness.'

'His forgiveness?' Szayel asked, as Tousen's fingers spread on his chest. This time, he had intuited and adopted the correct tone of voice – sweet, hesitant, almost fearful. The tone that Tousen liked; the sword slipped lower. 'I do not want his forgiveness, Kaname…I would rather have yours.'

'No,' Tousen spat. Still, his knee straightened and the only thing that kept Szayel pinned to the wall behind was the Shinigami's hand.

'You did not ask him to forgive me?' Szayel Aporro purred. His perfectly controlled, seductive whisper had nothing to do with the sudden, aquiline attention imprinted on his features.

'I asked to be allowed to avenge the insult you have caused him by your disobedience,' Tousen cuttingly responded. 'I asked to be allowed to wash my own shame and sin. But he is merciful.'

_He can't replace Ulquiorra. He can't replace any of us. My head is spinning with surprise._

The Shinigami must have taken Szayel Aporro's bored sigh for one of relief; he slapped him across the face with the back of his hand, and the Arrancar whimpered. Out of habit. The other man shuddered, and pulled away, his breath heavy and labored with lust thinly disguised as fury.

'He has asked me to return you to his side,' Tousen continued, in a low growl. 'His forgiveness is deep, even to the undeserving. He is merciful,' the Shinigami repeated, almost to himself. Quick as lightning, Szayel Aporro covered his mouth and clutched his nostrils, stifling a snicker – the unfortunate, self repressed bastard had yet again believed Aizen completely, and not seen the cynical calculation that guided God's choices. Because, as Szayel perfectly suspected, Aizen's great mercy in the Arrancar's regard did not numb Tousen's senses – what did was the fact that Aizen had chosen to disregard Kaname's own past little _indiscretions, _his regular visits to a sekki stone lined bedchamber that kept its secrets well.

'Indeed, his generosity is great,' Szayel melodiously gasped, slowly drifting forward. He reached to touch Tousen's shoulder, and though he smirked in contempt of himself, the Shinigami did not move, as the Arrancar began circling him. Slowly, with the grace of a dancer, never once letting his fingers lose contact with the bare skin of the Shinigami's arm. As Szayel came to stand behind Kaname, he stretched his right forearm over the other man's chest, pulling him close; his skin felt hot, even through the stern fabric of his robe, which Szayel had always detested. 'That he would let me return to his side…after I failed him so…after _we _failed him so_, _Kaname…' the Arrancar breathed, his words a soft caress in Tousen's ear. He followed the breath with a soft kiss, no more than a brush of his lips against the Shinigami's earlobe – Tousen shuddered with revulsion and undeniable lust, eyelids fluttering beneath the visor.

He did not hear the delicate mechanical click of the dressing table slipping open to reveal the hidden panels.

'What rank would I be given?' Szayel asked. 'Would I still be allowed in his presence? At his table?'

'You are unworthy of questioning,' Tousen snapped. 'You must crawl back with your head bowed and thank him for choosing to let you even live…'

'What rank would I be given?' The Arrancar asked, as if he had not heard the other man's words.

_He must have a carrot for me; I should hope it is at least fifth._

'Fifth,' Tousen growled. He obviously did not like to think of his full mandate and of the true content of the offer he had been sent to extend, just like he preferred to make himself oblivious to its true reason.

Szayel's moaned with almost physical pleasure, pressing his chest against Tousen's back as the fingers of his left hand danced quietly over the keys of the panel. He didn't need to look – he would have been able to navigate the menu structure in his dreams. In fact, he most often did.

A final click, a perhaps too enthusiastic one; Tousen's white eyes narrowed behind the semi-opaque visor.

'You're lying,' Szayel whimpered, 'You're lying…You did ask him to forgive me…And he did, because you are so precious to him.'

'No,' Tousen breathed hotly. 'I asked for nothing on your behalf. You deserve nothing.'

'Was the fifth rank his gift for me? Or yours? Will I have time to thank you? I want to thank you…'

The Shinigami's back suddenly tensed, as Szayel's touch drifted downwards on his sword arm, trickling honey into his senses. Silky fingers found and traced each tensed muscle, teasing the delicate skin on the inside of the elbow, and coaxing the Shinigami's arm to bend and relax. As Szayel Aporro completed his circle around the Shinigami, once more coming to stand before him, the weapon was finally sheathed and the Arrancar's fingers resolutely slipped between the hilt and Tousen's hand. Keeping Tousen's fingers tightly in his own, Szayel kneeled – the familiar initiation of the dance.

'And tell me, Kaname,' the Arrancar sighed, with satisfaction. 'Who else did Aizen-sama choose to forgive? Who else?' he whispered, kissing the back of the Shinigami's hand. 'He has forgiven you, and me…who else? So generous of Aizen-sama…Has he also forgiven Stark?' Szayel breathed, turning Tousen's palm over, to press his lips to the center of his palm. 'Perhaps Grimmjow?'

Without warning, his soft fingers suddenly transforming to an iron shackle, Szayel Aporro ferociously sunk his teeth into the other man's wrist, tearing flesh, vein and tendon from bone. Brutally yanked from his dream, Tousen pulled away, and in his turn, Szayel Aporro leapt back. He chewed thoroughly, then swallowed, licking his lips and wiping his chin with the back of his sleeve.

_It was already bloody, anyway._

More shocked than injured, in spite of the fact that the Arrancar had bit him in earnest and actually taken off a large piece of flesh, Tousen felt across his wrist, trying to assess the damage he felt, but could not see.

'You lived on your knees. You will die on your knees.' the Shinigami began, in a vicious snarl.

'I thought you liked it when I bite,' Szayel returned, in an insane cackle. Within a flash, Fornicares tip was beneath Tousen's chin; the Shinigami tried to unsheathe his sword as well, but the artificially slowed gesture led nowhere. A thousand times faster than he should have been, with strength unbecoming a body so limber and yielding, Szayel Aporro grabbed his uninjured wrist, twisting it round his back and preventing him from reaching his sword's hilt.

'I would like to thank you, Kaname,' the Octava growled, in a voice that barely resembled his own, 'but I do not know what to thank you for _first. _For captain Kurosutchi? Did you suspect what he would do to me when you and your Aizen-sama left me to him? Did you think about it, while he did it? Did the thought of it make you _hard?'_

'Or am I to thank you for the insult of coming here,' Szayel Aporro continued. 'underestimating my intelligence and offering me such a transparent bait? My life? Fifth seat? What else is in the box of chocolates for me, Kaname? Neliel Tu as Fraccion? And more importantly, how long after he uses me again will Aizen-sama decide I am worth being killed with his own hands, and not left to amateurs like Kurosutchi?'

'You are mad,' Tousen hissed in return; his torn hand darted over his head, his perfectly honed instincts telling him where to grab. His blood trickled over Szayel's cheek, but his fingers clenched in the Arrancar's hair, pulling him loose and driving him to the side. Tousen drew in his turn. 'This is your final chance, treacherous, vicious beast. You will not refuse it; you'll grovel to his feet and accept his generosity.'

'What have you thought of threatening me with, if I refuse?' Szayel Aporro laughed, throwing his hair back. 'Killing me? Let us be serious. You cannot fight me, Kaname, and especially not in here. If your brain is too weak to understand it, at least acknowledge what your senses are trying to tell you. You should feel it by now; the walls are humming with my _biblical_ knowledge of your body; you've been in here enough times for me to know every little thing about your movements and your bitterly repressed reiatsu…even if I don't have your Bankai, you will not call it. Not with your dear, old friend Zaraki Kenpachi in the neighborhood.'

Tousen's features twisted in sheer disgust.

'You will accept his generosity,' the Shinigami drawled, each syllable dripping poison and contempt. 'Your rebellion has no chance of success. Your world belongs to us now. Aizen-sama stands over you, in the heavens; you have no alternative. It is only the chosen who can choose.'

'You're a pathetic broken record that fails to incite fear. If I have the option of dying by my own choices or by the choices of another, what do you think I'll choose? Why would I fall for the same trick twice?'

'Because if you do not,' Tousen finally spat, 'you know that at least one of the others will.'

After a brief second of silence, Szayel Aporro bent over laughing, then, as if the laughter itself had not been enough, he sheathed Fornicares and copiously applauded.

'Kaname!' he shrieked sharply. 'I must congratulate you on your….your…clarity! You actually acknowledge his perverted games – I did not think you capable of it, but you surprise me! For the first time, I have to say…How does this behind enemy lines trick sit with the unbending paths of justice? With the virtue of honesty?'

'Those such as you lie outside the path of justice and virtue.' Tousen responded sternly. 'That is why you are forever doomed to fail, while we are forever fated to succeed. How much do you trust Stark, Szayel Aporro? How much do you trust Grimmjow?'

'More than I trust you,' Szayel cooed. 'And a lot less than I trust myself. Don't worry, Kaname…' he whispered, in a mockingly sweet tone. 'Aizen-sama will forgive this failure of yours as well. I know he will let you will miss me and our merry frolics for a short while, but I am sure God will not make you suffer long. He'll give you another lustful plaything to feel guilty for, soon enough. He likes you when you feel guilty; he's wise. He knows that without guilt, there can never be true faith. That's why his religion didn't catch with me. I do not feel guilt. I don't even feel shame.'

Tousen remained as silent as his world was dark.

'I'll turn around now,' Szayel ended, in a cool, composed voice. 'And I will count to ten, with my eyes closed. When I reopen them, you will be gone, with the unwavering knowledge that the next time we meet, I will kill you.'

'One.'

By the time his mind had reached five, he felt his pink tresses sway in the gentle, soft breeze that swept over the desert, and opened his eyes. With slow, careful gestures, he walked towards the tall open window, and lazily tore the latch that permitted it to be open from the outside. He had never allowed any of his lovers to pass through his laboratory – this way of accessing his bedroom was far more convenient to all, and, over the past months, it had provided him with as many delightful surprises as unpleasant ones.

He hesitated a moment before closing and securing the inside latch, as the trail of Tousen's Shumpo died in the distance; not because he regretted his choice, but because, for a mere moment, the thought of sealing of window had made him delightfully nostalgic. A bit for Nnoitra, then for Cirucci, in the later days, when being relegated to Privaron had made her insane with rage and fear, and oh so agreeably yielding and desperate.

Still, the one thing he would truly miss above all, would be imagining the look on Stark's face that sprang into his mind each time that Halibel crossed the window's threshold.

* * *

That's one down, two to go. Do y'all think Szayel Aporro did that because he knows Nash equilibria are pareto-suboptimal? o.O


	40. Ultimate victory

Hello, hello! Thank you for your kind words - your reviews are greatly appreciated, as always :)

So, Szayel Aporro was actually true. Who do we have next? It's not Stark so,

WARNING - Language, like language has never been abused before.

Chapter 39 - Where felines rule.

* * *

_There goes my pain, there go my chains,_

_Did you see them falling?_

'_Cuz this feelin', that has no meaning…_

_There goes the world, right off my shoulders,_

_There goes the world, right off my back._

'_Cuz I don't want it, I don't want it –_

_You can't change me, you can't break me…_

_There goes the world, right off my shoulders,_

_There goes the world, right off my back._

_There it goes._

-- Lifehouse, Quasimodo.

* * *

'D'ya really think ya should be drawin' against me, Grimmjow-kun?' Gin asked, in a good humored voice. 'Good guys like us oughta be talkin', not fightin'. 'Specially when the bad guys are so near. And we don't wanna be heard by the bad guys, now, do we?'

'I always liked ya,' Gin continued, stopping within nine feet of Grimmjow. 'Never understood why ya didn't like me back, but, there ya go, can never tell what people are thinkin', fer real.'

'What do you want, Gin?' Grimmjow growled, bringing Pantera's blade to his side and turning her flat. The other man kept his hands hidden in the wide sleeves of his kimono, but, in spite of the fact that the long corridor had no connection to the outside, the delicate white silk swayed gently, as if carried by a breeze. 'Wanna die real fast? Cuz' if that's what you're looking for, dude, you're gonna get it.'

'Ee-heee!' Ichimaru snickered. 'Ain't we cocky! Nuthin' much I want, to be honest. Just wanted to check on ya for Aizen-sama. All of us are real worried that if ya keep goin' like this, ya're gonna get yourself in serious trouble. An' we don't wanna see you get in serious trouble. Ya know, like when ya got into that stupid spat with Tousen-san and ya lost yer arm. Ya never know what other parts of ya ya might be losin' in this one.'

'Fuck off,' Grimmjow matter-of-factly responded.

'That ain't no way to talk to people who care about ya.' Gin kindly scolded. 'An' when they're givin' good advice, too. Tsk, tsk,' he said, slowly shaking his head.

'And what would the good advice be?' the Sexta asked; the wide smile on Ichimaru's features had not faltered for a single second, yet, soft and deceivingly warm, his reiatsu was stretching around Grimmjow like the fine mist of a spider's net.

Another, who was not endowed with Grimmjow's manically aggressive disposition would have considered the situation dangerous – the Sexta had never seen Ichimaru Gin fighting. He'd barely even seen the former captain of the third Gotei squad separated from Aizen, and the first time that he could actually distinguish the sickeningly sweet aroma of his reiatsu. Another might have given Ichimaru time to answer – or at least thought twice before springing forth; Grimmjow did not.

He did not see Ichimaru draw – he simply looked slightly to the side to protect his eyes from the stinging sparks that flew when the swords clashed. The blow of the parry, as well as the Shinigami's suddenly stinging reiatsu pushed him to the side; he turned in midflight, blindly firing a Cero that did not hope to reach its target, but simply prevent Gin from taking aim before Grimmjow could regain his bearings. The Sexta pounced off the wall, squinting against the crimson light trail of his own attack; he slid under the Cero's tail, inches above the floor, turning as his body hissed forward with vicious speed. The soles of his feet found Ichimaru's right ankle, but the Shinigami seemed to have anticipated the move. There was no wheight on the leg that Grimmjow easily swept off the ground – Gin sprang up and backwards, not fast enough to prevent Pantera from ripping the chest of his kimono open, but moving with liquid, unstoppable grace. His voice sounded insanely amused.

'Shoot to kill, Shinsou,' he commanded – his sword stretched forth, iron and light piercing though Grimmjow's shoulder and into the stone beneath him. 'Neee, Grimmjow-kun,' Ichimaru scolded, from ten feet above. 'Is there nuthin' I can do to persuade you we're friends? I come bearin' gifts!'

'Fuck you, dude,' Grimmjow said, with a wide, insane grin.

'I come bearin' _great_ gifts!' Gin sang, bending over to look down. 'Fourth seat! That's gotta sound good! We don't gotta bleed each other…'

'Fourth seat?' the Sexta breathed out, grabbing the blade that pinned him down.

'See?' Ichimaru exclaimed. 'Ya need to listen to me first, 'fore ya jump me...'

The teal light of the Gran Rey Cero exploded within the arched confines of the corridor, and Gin floated away towards the tall ceiling; after extending for what had felt like eternity, Shinsou's blade had finally retreated from the Sexta's shoulder. Gin brought the sword flat across his chest, facing into the explosion and scattering the light before it could break through the stone above.

Grimmjow's fist caught him unprepared – the Sexta's figure was barely distinguishable from the light of his Cero, and Gin only became aware of how close Grimmjow had gotten when the shattering hit to the stomach made him unwillingly bend over. It was the only hit that Grimmjow managed to land, however; Pantera hissed by the Shinigami's ear, to the left, then to the right, as Gin spun around and drifted towards the floor. His movements did not reflect any particular hurry, the speed of the encounter dictated by Grimmjow's own fury. Not wanting to allow the game to continue for too long, Ichimaru propelled himself upwards as soon as his sandals touched the floor, yet this time, Shinsou's light extended into nothing. The Sexta's Sonido brought him behind the Shinigami, the light growing between Grimmjow's tense fingers being the only warning that Gin received of Grimmjow's position.

The Cero's cone stretched from the left, behind the Shinigami, forcing him to take a step to the right. Ichimaru lifted his chin at the last moment, allowing Pantera's edge to slip by his throat as he spun Shinsou into position. The tip of the sword extended blindly, ripping the silk of his kimono, and stopping at contact with the bare skin of the Arrancar's stomach. Just as Pantera had stopped against the Shinigami's throat. The world froze.

'You're lotsa fun,' Gin noted; in spite of the blade that pushed his chin up, his voice continued to be amused and relaxed, as if he had been having the most pleasant conversation. 'Aizen-sama's had lotsa fun wit'ya, too. But he doesn't wanna carry the joke for too long; ya've been playin' outside fer a while now. Time to, ya know, come inside fer dinner. And I hafta say, I am really impressed with ya, Grimmjow – none of us was thinkin' you could do ol'Ulquiorra in, but, here ya go. Ya earned your rank, fair an' square.'

'I didn't kill Ulquiorra,' Grimmjow responded.

'Ya, tha killin' you didn't do, but you sure gave him a good runaround. Showed ya have yer wits about ya. An' stoppin' this silliness before it gets too silly fer sure wouldn't be bad.'

'I'd say fucking Tousen took it too far when he cut my arm off at the shoulder. Wouldn't you think so, Gin?' Grimmjow sneered. He was only too aware of Shinsou's tip, poking uncomfortably at his stomach – still, he reckoned he had the upper hand. Even if Ichimaru did stretch his blade, he'd have ample time to slit his throat before the Shinigami could move away.

'Hee,' Gin laughed. 'Ya still pissed about that? Gotta say, ya're the last guy I figured didn't have no sense of humor.'

'Sense of _fucking_ humor?' the Sexta growled, his arm tensing with uncontrolled anger, and causing the edge of his sword to scrape against the Shinigami's skin. 'He cut off my arm!'

'But then we gave it back to ya, didn't we?' Ichimaru innocently inquired. 'I think Aizen-sama felt kindda sorry to see you all mopey an' sad. So did I; I really don't like people being sad 'round me. So I was thinkin', since you're always good fun to be around, I was thinkin' we getcha back. Give you fourth seat. Fer sure oughta cheer you up! Whaddaya say?'

Before even he'd even finished the phrase, his fingers encircled Grimmjow's wrist, suddenly jerking it outwards. It was not the force of the pull, but rather the speed and fluency of it that made the Sexta lose his concentration for a mere second and allowed Ichimaru to slither out of his grasp. The surprise did not last for long enough, however – in his turn, Grimmjow shifted to the left, and Shinsou's tip viciously stabbed into the stone behind. Shinigami and Arrancar drifted in opposite directions.

'So lemme get this straight,' Grimmjow said; he didn't like the fact that the clashes had pushed them a hundred yards deeper into the corridor, towards the junction to the seventh tower and almost out of Szayel's domain. Since the Octava had made all of his traps visible, probably diverting the power he used to disguise them towards other means, dark entrances and exits were all around, making the scene look like the monstrous inside of a wasp hive; Gin had been here before, and he'd always kept a tight eye on Szayel Aporro's corridor manipulations. He knew the place far better than Grimmjow did, and there was no telling if he had, indeed, come alone – the maze could have hidden an entire contingent of Exequias.

'Lemme get this straight,' Grimmjow continued, the light gathering in his left fist serving as a deterrent to the other's extended blade as the Sexta took a step forward. 'You an' your master want me back before the last fight.'

'Yeh!' Gin chided. 'Now ya're getting it!'

'What's the matter, Ichimaru? You couldn't sprout another Ulquiorra?' Grimmjow laughed, pressing forth, in spite of the fact that the Shinigami was not backing away.

'Well, if you _really_ wanna take it like that…' Ichimaru shrugged, looking slightly offended, 'nah, we couldn't. Least not so fast – but I personally didn't want another Ulquiorra back in the first place. Old sourpuss he was, fer sure. Not a funny bone in him.'

'An' what made ya think I'd be so happy to replace the fucker?'

'Didn't think ya liked him much. 'Sides, I told ya,' Gin answered. 'I got a soft spot fer ya. Wouldn't want ya to die like a fool, when you're such a smart cat. Playin' against Aizen-sama's wishes didn't getcha nowhere before; this time won't be no different. Matter of fact, it will be worse. An' you gotta think of sumthin' else, too, Grimmjow-kun,' he continued, sweetly. 'You gotta think – what's Szayel Aporro doin' while I'm out 'ere, bustin' the balls of a guy who wants to help me out of the goodness of his heart?'

Unwillingly, Grimmjow let out a heavy breath.

'Motherfuckers,' he cursed, in sudden comprehension. 'What are you offering him? Fourth seat as well?'

'Nah,' Gin answered. 'That's fer ya. If you wanna take it. But you gotta be thinkin' on yer paws, an' do it faster than Szayel Aporro, cuz once he takes what's offered to him, as ya an' I both know he will, I'll have a heck of a harder time convincin' Aizen-sama that we need ya too. 'Sides,' the Shinigami giggled, 'I've a bet ridin' on ya, Grimmjow-kun. I told Tousen-san ya're smarter than ya look, but no, he said ya're gonna die like a fool, in a losin' battle. An' we both know that this is what it is, a losin' battle. Ya lose it even if ya win it.'

The light between Grimmjow's fingers faded.

'There's a good kitty. Knew that'd make ya see reason. If we hurry an' get to the throne room fast, we'll let you finish off Szayel Aporro when he gets there. Betcha ya'd like that; an' with ya back where ya belong, there's no need for him. Good thing too, his ogglin' at me gives me the bloody creeps. I don't swing that way… Now, common.' Ichimaru nodded in approval; he sheathed Shinsou and walked towards Grimmjow, without fear. 'Let's hurry an' get back to the throne room.' In his turn, the Sexta lowered his blade, looking at the floor beneath his feet, as if he'd half expected it to swallow him. He made no gesture of rejection as Gin patted him warmly on the shoulder, passing by, then walking on without looking behind him. Yet, Grimmjow didn't follow.

'What happens if we get there after Stark?' he asked the darkness that surrounded Gin. 'Will he get to finish me off? Cuz if you've got him, don't see reasons for which you'd keep me.'

'Heee!' Ichimaru giggled. 'Why's everyone so pessimistic these days? 'Tis like y'all be seein' only darkness an' treason everywhere. Let's keep movin'.' He implacably concluded. Grimmjow snickered quietly, and shook his head.

'Blow me.'

'Wha…?' Gin asked, turning by half. His smile had not faded, but a faint, pink blush had spread over his finely chiseled cheekbones.

'I said – blow me, Gin,' Grimmjow snarled, to the other's half turned back. 'You hurry up and get to the throne room, an' tell Aizen he can blow me, too. Just do me a favor, dude – if Szayel Aporro happens to be around, don't tell _him_ to blow me. He tends to take that shit as an invitation…'

Gin turned around fully.

'How's that for a fucking sense of humor?' the Sexta cackled.

'That's no way to be thinkin',' Ichimaru answered; for as much as he had tried to keep his voice on level, the edge of the threat had undeniably been there. 'Even less a way to be talkin'.'

'Lemme let you in on a little secret, Gin,' the Sexta hissed, eyes narrowed and throwing dangerous, metallic glints. 'I oughta be dead already. Only reason I ain't is cuz Kurosaki is a pathetic little brat. A pathetic loyal little brat; an' I'll take my revenge out of his hide, but I ain't gonna do it by your side. Not anymore. And if you imagined I can be _fucking_ tamed, you imagined wrong – so you can take your whips, and your carrots, and go find yourself another bleeding Luppi. I ain't playing with you anymore.'

'Szayel Aporro will,' Ichimaru remarked, dryly. 'An' though I wouldn't bet my left arm on it,' he added, with a telling snicker, 'I'm thinkin' so will Stark. It's in his nature, after all; greater turncoat _I_ ain't ever seen. An' that's sayin' a lot!'

'Good. Then you have a world of possibilities before ya, an' I wish you good luck.' Grimmjow replied. 'I'm done kneeling.'

With a deep, sad shrug, Gin fully turned away.

'Meh,' he said, without spite. 'Now I gotta brew tea for Tousen-san for an entire week. That's not nice of ya, Grimmjow-kun. Not very nice at all.'

For a moment, the Sexta could not believe these were the Shinigami's final words, yet, step after graceful step, hands once again entwined in the wide sleeves of his kimono, Ichimaru melted away in the distance. He shook his head, once again cursing under his breath, then spun around in his turn, preparing to use Sonido; with any luck, he'd get back to the laboratory with sufficient time to crush Szayel's puny skull before the little bastard could be everyone's undoing.

'Grimmjow-sama!'

He turned, but not fast enough - there was a metallic glint, a solidified ray of moonlight; there was a flicker of white, fast and fluid like a gust of wind amid petals. Then, there was nothing but crimson, staining the front of Grimmjow's chest. Blood - but not his own.

'Tesla…' Grimmjow breathed, looking down in shock.

Shinsou's gleaming tip retreated from the Fraccion's chest, leaving the young Arrancar's body fall limply to the floor. Tesla had not had time to turn and face Gin; the blow had caught him sideways, passing clearly though the entire width of his chest, from the left to the right side of the ribcage. The Fraccion did not even whimper.

'You dumb little fuck,' Grimmjow hissed, jumping over the body that lay at his feet. Pantera caught Shinsou's tip, pushing the impossibly long blade wide and against the side of the corridor. Keeping the Shinigami's blade pressed against the wall with his own weapon's edge, Grimmjow darted forward – as long as he could hear the painful screech of metal against metal, and see the sparks that ripped through the darkness, he knew that he had nothing to dodge or parry. The explosive light of a Kidou forced him to break the contact, however – he shifted two feet to his right, avoiding the spell and wondering why Gin had not used a more powerful art.

Then, as he again shifted his wheight to avoid the Shinigami's sword, which had burst forth through the darkness, he understood why, and grinned. Gin could not afford to be heard; he'd come to either retrieve Grimmjow, or kill him, and neither could be accomplished if his former friends learned of his presence.

Without a second thought, Grimmjow stopped in his tracks; he'd finally caught sight of Gin's figure, no more than a blot of white in the distance. Shinsou hissed past his ear, lightly scratching his shoulder – Ichimaru had had less than half a second to take aim, and he'd come remarkably close. Another, who still had any notion of fear, would have understood that standing still was madness – the Shinigami's next attack would find the heart, or the throat, or the skull. Grimmjow did not truly consider the notion.

'_Garra, Pantera,' _he said, before the world vanished to the wild howl of his unleashed reiatsu.

He emerged from the crackling of thunderous light quickly, catching Gin by surprise. Razor sharp claws sunk into the Shinigami's chest, although Gin darted back, leaving a burning trail in the wake of his Shumpo. The hastily retreated tip of his sword pierced though the panther's right shoulder, barely missing the heart – surrounded by the teal mist of his mane, Grimmjow laughed, light gleaming off canines that seemed to be made of the same material as Gin's blade. He pressed himself forward, allowing Shinsou to rip its way free though flesh and bone and laughing madly as he buried his elbow into Ichimaru's stomach.

The Shinigami glanced down in incomprehension, and his smile did not have time to fade as he was blown helplessly backwards, blood spilling freely from five equally distanced puncture marks, which, on the whiteness of his chest, looked like the bite of a monstrous leech. He vanished, but it the trail of blood that helped the panther find him, within less than a breath, long, gleaming claws closed about Shinsou's blade, slipping upwards to catch its hilt, then wrapping themselves about Gin's wrist. It was the first time, Ichimaru noticed, as Grimmjow's other set of claws settled on his cheek, just beneath his left eye, that he noticed the Hollow blood that poured out of Grimmjow's paw and shoulder was ice cold.

'Alright, Gin. You win. I'll go with you,' the Sexta hissed, in such an inhuman snarl that Gin could only guess he had heard the words. 'I'll go with you right now – I'll even race you to the throne room, you fucking piece of backstabbing shit. '

He hissed, three inch long canines sliding over Ichimaru's marmoreal throat, without touching it.

'On one condition, tho',' Grimmjow added, looking up. His eyes glowed fluorescently in the darkness, as his rear paws settled on the Shinigami's lower stomach, tearing mercilessly at the flesh.

'Ya name it,' Gin snickered; the panther began to purr.

'I ain't got no use for your numbered chairs. That's not what I want.'

He was purring now, the vibrations coursing all thorough his body.

'Name yer price, kitty,' Ichimaru nodded, continuing to smile in spite of the claws that expanded and retracted rhythmically under his left eye socket.

'You wanna know what I want?' Grimmjow uttered slowly. 'What I really want?'

'That's what name yer price normally means, yeh,' Gin shrugged.

'Tousen's head,' the Sexta growled. 'The only thing ya have to give me in exchange is Tousen's head.'

Gin opened his eyes. Wide.

'I'm gonna kill you, dude. There ain't no doubt,' the feline hissed.

For a moment, a mere moment that was nonetheless as precious as an eternity, Ichimaru Gin stopped smiling.

The back of his hand, preceded by his solidified, enraged reiatsu, swept the released Sexta off his chest, hurling him fifty feet back. Grimmjow had expected the movement, and he had not fought it; his lean, athletic frame curled gracefully in the air, landing on all fours.

_Cats always land on their feet._

He had not, for a single moment, lost his balance. His tail swung furiously from side to side.

'I'm taking it,' he laughed, throwing his wild mane back, 'you don't like my terms? Gin, ol'buddy, ol'pal?'

While Ichimaru's face twisted into a mask of unbridled rage, Grimmjow straightened. Blood was dripping off the plates that covered his half human, half feline body, but he was oblivious to it.

Inch by inch, his claws extended, thick, teal lines ripping the darkness apart – as Gin brought Shinsou to the ready.

'There ain't nothin' you can dish out I won't piss on, Grimmjow,' Ichimaru snarled.

'For sure, dude,' Grimmjow laughed. '_Desgarron.'_

Gin parried against thin air.

Parallel lines of solid energy tore through the ceiling, for hundreds of feet along the corridor's length – its foundations weakened and torn, as much by the Sexta's attack as by the myriad of corridors and tunnels that crossed each other in the dark, the junction between the seventh and the eighth tower of Las Noches crumbled, tones of rock separating Grimmjow from his opponent.

Tail swinging lazily, Grimmjow spun around, not needing to look over his shoulder to know that Ichimaru Gin was gone. Not dead, but gone, back to the master he understood, to report a failure. Perhaps the only one he'd ever had to report.

Or at least, Grimmjow would have liked to think of it that way.

He rolled Tesla over, with gestures the softness of which was unbecoming his claws. The Fraccion whimpered for the first time.

'What were you doing, you dumb cunt?' the Sexta hissed, between jagged, cutting fangs.

'Grimmjow-sama…' Tesla whispered.

'Yeh, dude, that's still me. What were you doing, lurkin' around in the dark? Waiting for a sword to jump on?'

'Szayel Aporro-sama took the shackles off,' Tesla uttered, his tiny voice drowning at each word. 'Then he told me to make myself scarce. Not pollute his laboratory with…'

He coughed, little splatters of blood sending ripples through the dark crimson pool that stretched beneath his shoulder.

'With my useless presence,' he coughed. 'I went, I went, if Szayel Aporro-sama told me to, only…'

He curled.

'Only…there's nowhere for me to go. Nnoitra-sama, he is gone, he is dead, and…'

A single, dark eye looked up at Grimmjow, as if he had held the meaning of life.

'You didn't leave me.'

'Fucking hell, kid,' the Sexta whispered.

'So I waited around, hoping to catch you, and ask…' The Fraccion's voice broke. 'I saw you earlier, but you were too angry, and I was afraid to ask you…why you took me with you, why you…'

'Can you fix him?' Grimmjow asked, not looking over his shoulder as Ichigo and Kenpachi landed behind his back; the human had recognized Grimmjow's attack and rushed over, as the Sexta knew he would. Unsure of himself, Ichigo nodded, but did not approach, contenting himself on watching Grimmjow's bloodied claws slip trough Tesla's sand blonde tresses.

'The winner's the guy who lives in the end,' Grimmjow said, softly. 'D'ya get that, Tesla? He died. Nnoitra died.'

The Fraccion whimpered, writhing in his own blood.

'You lived, kid. You won. _You_ won – I only caried you from one place to the other. Makin' myself clear?'

Fluorescent blue gleamed dangerously in the darkness, as impossibly long teal tresses whipped through the air and Grimmjow turned his face towards Ichigo.

'Fix him!'

This time, Ichigo nodded resolutely in return.

* * *

Up next - Something's got to give. Or...


	41. Understanding

Well, well, well, what have we here? Another light tasting summer read. Thank you all for reading and commenting ;) And thank you, Maidros, for reading large amounts of stuff at strange hours in the night. Though I really wanted to write the letter from Narcissa to Draco. No, really. :(

Chapter 41 - Where what you thought was going to happen doesn't happen. Uh, cryptic enough?

* * *

Stark bowed his head and smiled to Aizen's amused shrug.

'I would assume you were not truly counting on Grimmjow,' the Segunda said, watching the cutting trails of Grimmjow's attack wither and melt against the sky.

'Not really,' Aizen admitted. 'Gin wanted to attempt it; I already told him it was hopeless, but he said it would be _fun_. Odd concept, that.'

'It is all for the best in the end,' Stark dreamily uttered. 'If all three of us came back to the fold, it would have made for some awkward over the council table glances.'

Aizen chuckled lightly, then strode forth, past the Arrancar, to sit down in the sand; for a while, both men remained silent, gazing at the sky as if each had been alone with his thoughts.

'I did not think I was still capable of the passion with which I hate you, Sousuke Aizen,' Stark said, and this time, Aizen laughed, the beautiful, elegant sound echoing over the dunes, and melting into the distance.

'I know,' he nodded. 'I find it inspirational. Even more so because you do not truly fear me, and it is strange to experience hatred separated from dread. I think the only thing that is stranger still is love accompanied by true understanding. And both things can only be expected of a true equal.'

Aizen's head tilted softly to the side.

'Will you not sit with me? It is a beautiful night.'

The phrase had not been a command, and that was the only reason why Stark obeyed it. He sat, crossing his legs.

'You took Ulquiorra from me,' Aizen continued, in a dreamy, soft voice. 'I must admit it was quite embarrassing.'

'You let me have him,' Stark shrugged.

'He committed a few mistakes,' the Shinigami nodded in return. 'I did not expect hidden weakness from his behalf, and yet…' He sighed. 'I despise and almost fear adoration – its lack of clarity, its lack of reason. And it was not that Ulquiorra adored _me_, he did not. But with each day that passed I felt him beginning to adore someone else, and the fact that he was capable of it disappointed me so deeply…'

'He would have killed her for you, without thinking twice. All you would have needed to do was ask.' The Segunda answered.

'That is not important. He loved her, and that would not have stopped, even if he'd killed her. And it is not that I mind love, truly, it is a beautiful emotion. I just thoroughly disliked the fact that he chose to keep it hidden from me, and insult me by assuming I could not tell. One does not do this to an equal, especially for an inconsequential reason like Inoue Orihime.'

'It is perhaps why I am so delighted with you, Stark,' Aizen continued. 'I have been waiting a long time for you to show your hatred, and treat me with the honesty I deserve.'

'We aim to please,' the Arrancar chuckled.

'Hidden hatred, just like hidden love, are of no use,' Aizen responded. 'What good were you to me, sitting by my side and seething in your resentment? Constantly wondering if you could rip me apart once you pounced at me? It is far better now, that you finally understand you cannot; it is only now that you can truly be my Primera Espada, and balance all of their love with your hate. Should you decide that is appropriate.'

_Decide_, Stark thought. Of the many words Aizen could have used, he'd chosen this one. He had not said – _You are now worthy, _as Kuchiki might have. He had probably chosen it for this very reason.

'Can you defeat Yamamoto?' the Segunda asked.

'In time, and with a proper change of tactics.' Aizen shrugged. 'A war of harassment may yield better results than a direct attack, under the present circumstances, but I must admit I am getting slightly itchy.' He laughed. 'You have thrown me off balance. I had given up awaiting your predictable treason; I thought you would never wake again. But, you proved me wrong, just when I had decided your dishonesty made you useless. I should have known you were a patient creature, and you would find the right moment. Darkness such as yours is not an accident.'

'Yet you still expected me to turn against you,' Stark frowned.

'Well, yes, indeed. You are in this place because you are a traitor, and because your treason did not come easy. To rational beings, hell is endlessly repeating their original sin, each time to the same result, and never for a smaller price. You are punished to betray, just like Szayel Aporro is punished with insatiable lust of the mind and body and Grimmjow is punished with rage that knows no boundaries.'

Stark clenched his jaws and said nothing; for a moment, he bitterly realized what the world must have been like for Szayel Aporro, who predicted everything and never had any surprises. On this occasion, the Segunda had guessed Aizen's next sentence to the letter.

'All punishments I came here to end, given the opportunity, and provided you all made the correct choices, when they were offered.'

'And what do you think will prevent me from turning on you again?' Stark asked, bringing his hand up to cover a yawn.

'The fact that you will have no allies left. Who would you turn to? The Sereitei? I am assured you know they would have done away with all of you as soon as they exhausted your utility. Also, after this, you will have no motive to turn against me,' Aizen shrugged. 'You now know I expect it, and you now know you cannot hope to succeed. You're not irrational - you could not defeat Zaraki Kenpachi, so you are aware of the fact that you cannot get an _angle_ on me. After consuming Ulquiorra's reiatsu could not make you grow, you understood you have reached the limit of your evolution. Time, which was always your ally, has deserted you; no amount of waiting and plotting will enhance you. Unless you stand with me.'

Stark nodded, and both remained silent, within their own thoughts. The offer had been spoken; it merely needed to be ascertained.

'I could not defeat Kenpachi yesterday. I will be equally hard pressed into defeating him tomorrow, or the day after that,' the Segunda lazily said.

Aizen nodded in his turn.

'On the other hand,' Stark chuckled, 'I will love hearing your explanation to Barragan, when you offer me the Primera Espada. The poor sod has been nothing but loyal to you, and he will still be stronger than I am…'

'Not for long,' Aizen shrugged. 'Barragan has already had his reward for joining me – he was spared the humiliation of defeat. You, on the other hand were never defeated.' The Shinigami politely bowed his head. 'Until now. And you never truly stood by my side. Until now – thus, it is only now that you will be rewarded.'

_What the Hougyaku took, only the Hougyaku can restore._

Both of them knew it all too well.

The fingers of Stark's left hand encircled his right wrist, pressing on the skin as if they'd been looking for the comforting presence of a talisman, and, like each and every time the fact that there was nothing to be found was surprising. How long would it be, the Segunda wondered, closing his eyes and wishing never to open them again, until he'd truly get used to its absence?

'What of the others?' he asked. 'How will you stop their punishment?'

'In the manner of their choosing,' Aizen answered, simply. 'Each of you has been offered a path, and the paths were not mutually exclusive. I had not intended to trade one of you for the other. Yet, should they choose to follow other paths than those offered, there is nothing further I can do for them.'

'Death,' he dreamily uttered, 'is also an end to all punishment.'

'I hate you, Sousuke Aizen,' Stark whispered.

But this was, indeed, surrender, and God acknowledged it with a smile.

'I acknowledge that. But love is not what I crave; I crave understanding, and you are one of few I obtain it from. Shall we?' he asked, with a little shudder. 'It is a bit chilly, during the night.'

Aizen stood and turned around, catching Lilinette's fist with his extended hand; he did not apply any strength, and none would have been needed, even if she had tried to hit him with her full strength. She had not, because she could not gather it. She was crying, tears streaming from under her mask and knotting under her chin, but when she spoke, her voice did not even tremble.

'No,' Lilinette resolutely said. 'No. Go away. He doesn't need you, we don't need you. Go away. Leave us alone. Leave us alone.'

'You are a very pretty child,' Aizen distractedly responded. He lowered his hand, making the Fraccion drop to her knees, and sink almost a foot in the sand under the pressure of his reiatsu. Teeth clenched, and fists lodged in the ground, Lilinette cringed but made no sound to show how much pain she was in – instead, she painstakingly looked up, ignoring the fact that Aizen's fingers had casually and kindly brushed the top of her mask.

'I asked you to help me, Lilinette,' Stark said, looking over his shoulder. 'You didn't.'

'No,' she cried. 'No. Don't do this again, Stark. Don't do this to me, don't…'

Her voice was stifled as her little body bent forward, in an unnaturally sharp movement.

'…don't do this to yourself.'

The warm light of the Negacion descended around her, relieving the pain and the pressure and surrounding her with a small aura of safety that not even Aizen's godly reiatsu could breach. The Shinigami trailed away slowly, knowing that he would be followed. Yet, before he was, Stark's arms wrapped protectively around Lilinette's shoulders.

'Trust me,' he whispered, and she could not tell if she had truly heard him, or simply intuited the words from the light brush of his lips against her ear. Her eye widened in surprise; she tried to push away and protest – his arms held her immobile, so she had little choice but to yield, and bury her face in his shoulder to hide her expression. 'Trust me when I tell you I love you more than you will ever know.' Stark said, before picking her up and starting on Aizen's trail.

Sometimes it was good to utter the words, the future Primera thought; sometimes Lilinette needed to hear what she already knew all too well.

* * *

Up next - Szayel forgets elementary hygene. He was stressed, ok? He was stressed.


	42. Out of Space

Yaaawn! good morning from...eh, just sunny Romania. No warnings but a hint: You drink gold tequila with oranges and cinammon. You drink silver tequila with salt and lemons. Not that Szayel Aporro and Ishida are in the mood for dinking.

I was though :D

Chapter 42 - The introduction to which could not be more random. I blame it on the tequila.

* * *

The fact that Szayel Aporro returned to the laboratory wearing the same outfit seemed to be a trick of Ishida's tired eyes. If anything, the Arrancar looked even more crumpled than before, fresh blood splatters stretching on the previously white chest of his shirt. He frowned in confusion as Szayel brushed past him without giving him any attention; the Octava's features were perfectly straight, even somewhat overly detached. He sat at his panels and began to type, long graceful fingers moving with such flexibility that they seemed to have no joints. The square pattern that Ishida had learned to recognize as his reiatsu scanner swept over the screen, without leaving any traces of its passage.

'What happened?' Ishida asked, coming closer.

Szayel ignored him completely. Instead, he flicked to a different screen, one that showed an intricate, three dimensional blueprint of what Ishida assumed were the bowels of his tower. The plan looked as fine and as dense as a spider web, although it had no obvious pattern.

'Sit, Quincy,' Szayel muttered, bringing the paper cup chair out of the floor and sweeping Ishida off his feet. 'I hate it when people stand over my shoulder.'

No other words were spoken for long minutes, and though Ishida found the silence uncomfortable for the first few, he soon found himself entranced with the speed at which Szayel Aporro methodically enhanced each section of his map, then attentively scrutinized it, always from top left to bottom right, with the rhythm of a metronome.

'What are we looking for?' Ishida asked at length. He instinctively pressed his feet on the floor, in an attempt of pulling the chair closer; it did not budge of course, but the effort of the push brought him dangerously close to falling off. Without looking his way, Szayel smirked, as if scolding the human for ruining his concentration, and made the chair slide forward on the floor, until Ishida's knees were as close to the panels as Szayel's were.

'_We_,' he muttered, in a despondent voice which clearly indicated he still disliked the application of the pronoun, 'are looking for Grimmjow and…or Stark. Or for any indication of structural damage to the tower that might explain why we cannot see either Grimmjow or Stark. The latter would be good news,' Szayel casually informed, eyes moving rapidly from left to right.

'What happened, Szayel Aporro?' Ishida asked, obviously frightened of any event that caused the Octava to think damage to his tower was welcome.

'Do you have any means of communicating with Kurosaki Ichigo other than leaving the laboratory and going to the fourth level?' the Octava asked, yet again disregarding the Quincy's question.

'No,' Ishida answered, growing irritated. 'What the bloody hell happened?' he snapped, reflexively catching Szayel's wrist in mid movement. He instinctively recoiled, not at the fact that Szayel had turned towards him at lightning speed, but amazingly enough, because he'd realized he had roughly grabbed the Arrancar's injured arm and regretted the movement.

'I have just had a short and unpleasant visit from Kaname Tousen,' Szayel responded. 'During which he hinted at the fact that…'

'Are you injured?' the Quincy asked, suddenly understanding where the fresh blood came from. For half a second, he felt genuinely concerned.

'Me?' Szayel Aporro grinned a bloody, wide grin. 'No, of course _not_.'

Ishida drew away, pushing back into the stubbornly immobile seat, and barely resisting the urge of jumping out of it.

'Szayel Aporro…' he breathed, in disgust and horror. 'You have something…'

'Hm?'

Not feeling capable of thinking the phrase, much less uttering it, Ishida raised a trembling finger to indicate the his upper row of teeth.

'Oh.' The Octava said, gracefully lifting his fingers to cover his mouth, and bending slightly to the side to fumble in his pocket. 'Apologies.' He concluded in a muffled voice, spinning his chair around. 'I normally brush after each meal…'

'You _bit _him?'

'Stringy bastard,' Szayel mumbled, tossing the tissue he'd used to clean his teeth into a conveniently placed rubbish bin, and smiling to reveal once more perfectly white incisors. 'Are you feeling quite yourself, Ishida Uryu? You seem a bit pale.'

'Go on,' the human whispered, feeling faint and completely nauseated, but oddly unafraid. 'He hinted at…?'

'Ah, yes, quite true.' Szayel nodded, resuming his methodical flicking though the images on the screen. 'He hinted at the fact that the other two were going to receive similar visits; in fact, I am assured they've received the _good word_ already. That is why I would very much like to find either of the two or…'

'Here,' Ishida said, decidedly pointing at rightmost edge of the screen, to a section that had not yet been enlarged. 'The structural damage is here.'

Szayel Aporro sighed, pressing his demonstratively trembling fingers on his forehead. 'You are pointlessly making me skip rows, and derive from proper methodology,' he said. 'It is impossible for anyone to distinguish anything at this resolution…'

'Instead of so carefully grooming your hair, you should clean your glasses more often,' Ishida answered dryly.

'Why you little insolent…'

The shriek died in a tiny, very embarrassed choke, as, tired of waiting, the Quincy brushed Szayel's arm aside, and deftly enlarged the selected quadrant himself. The Arrancar's eyes widened, even more then when the Steele Schneider had driven straight though his body; the little, disconcerting squeak of surprise that had escaped his lips before he'd stubbornly glued his lips together in a deep pout had been remarkably similar, however.

Indeed, the edges of one of the tunnels were jagged; a myriad of faint red lines that indicated extensive damage to the wall's inner structure spread on the screen as soon as the section came into focus. The lines ran thick along five elongated and impressively wide cuts – if he had not known he was looking at a section of a building, Ishida might have guessed he was looking at a piece of flesh that had been clawed by a giant feline.

Stubbornly quiet, Szayel Aporro brought up his sensors list in a small side window of the main screen, and smirked in disgust – all prompts blinked neutrally; none of the machines were present. He turned to the archer, who was waiting, lips tightly and reproachfully pursed. The Octava's smirk only grew more menacing.

'Say it,' Ishida prompted.

'No,' Szayel Aporro huffed. He was blushing – his cheeks were not merely pink, but almost crimson.

'Say it,' Ishida prompted again, crossing his arms over his chest. 'You will not think straight until you do.'

The Octava obviously mulled over the words.

'Fine,' he spat. 'You were right, I was…'

He breathed deeply.

'…wrong. Are you happy now?'

Ishida snickered, pushing his glasses upwards on his nose.

'The truth is liberating,' he said, smiling haughtily. 'Now,' Ishida continued, coughing slightly to adjust his tone. 'What is this?'

'Desgarron,' Szayel Aporro sighed. 'Grimmjow's final attack. And by the fact that my sensors were deftly removed, he could only have been fighting Gin. That,' he said, almost to himself, 'cannot possibly be good.'

'Does he have any chances of winning?' Ishida asked, softly; Szayel resolutely shook his head. 'You defeated Tousen…'

'No, I didn't,' the Arrancar answered. 'Lumina.'

'Y…yes, Szayel Aporro-sama?'

Judging by the look on its features, the Fraccion suspected what was to come and was not overjoyed at the perspective. It approached, nonetheless, hands obediently crossed at the height of its chest.

'Go to the third level – pick everyone else up and go seal the junction to the seventh tower. While they close the corridor, reinstall the perimeter sensors, then go tell the Shinigami to pay me a visit. Verona.'

He stood, allowing the Fraccion to hop in his seat.

'Do a thorough sweep on the entire tower, and send all Medazepi clones to the locations where sensors seem out of order. If he is moving around, he must be leaving a trail; reactivate all wall traps once the sections have been checked. No,' Szayel briskly changed his mind. 'Reactivate all wall traps now; if any of the clones forgot the trigger locations, they were pointless anyway.'

'You think…' Ishida frowned, 'that he came in here?'

'Either that, or he – _they –_ are outside, where my sensors cannot see them.'

'Shouldn't you try to find Grimmjow?' the Quincy muttered, following Szayel away from the panels. 'If you say he cannot defeat Gin, he must be in a world of trouble…'

'Or completely out of trouble, in any number of ways,' Szayel snarled, beginning to pace furiously.

'You think he is dead already?' Ishida breathed.

'I think he is _gone_ already' Szayel corrected, abruptly stopping in his tracks. He pressed his middle finger on his forehead, just above the frames of his glasses, and closed his eyes – Ishida felt the wave of reiatsu passing through him as it spread outwards, and, in the back of his mind, he imagined it must have looked as uniform and precise as the pattern that swept over the screen. 'I cannot feel a single thing,' Szayel muttered. 'If there was any sort of reiatsu in attack mode…'

He frowned, clenching and unclenching his fingers; Ishida could imagine seeing the Octava's mind spinning, like a finely tuned clock mechanism.

'No one is fighting,' Szayel concluded. 'Bastard,' he muttered under his breath, unconsciously biting the nail of his right middle finger.

'He maybe dead,' Ishida snapped; the Octava's frown turned menacing.

'Not_ this _fast,' he retorted snappily. 'He may not be able to defeat Gin, but Gin would not be able to defeat him in two swift movements either. No, it would not be over this fast.' Szayel said, resuming his mind-numbing pacing. 'Not unless he already took the hand that was extended. Bastard.' He repeated. 'I wonder what they offered _him.' _The Octava muttered, in obvious spite.

Then, Ishida finally understood.

'They were not sent to kill you,' he said softly. 'They were sent to convince you to go back to Aizen.'

Szayel nodded, without looking the archer's way.

'And only kill us when that failed,' the Octava completed, for a maximum of precision. 'He must really want to attack fast…'

'But…'

'What is it, Quincy?' the Arrancar snapped furiously. 'Why do you keep interrupting my thoughts?'

'You're still here,' Ishida matter-of-factly remarked.

'Yes, well, that is indeed a most astute observation,' Szayel smirked. 'After that one, I am sure you have burned out your final nervous synapse, and will lie quietly in a corner, drooling.'

'There is no sensor damage in the tower, Szayel Aporro-sama. And no trace of either Grimmjow or Ichimaru Gin.' Verona informed, in an obviously relieved voice; the Fraccion's mood was not shared by either of the two men. Once more, Szayel sent his reiatsu out, not in a gentle sweep like the first time, but in an actual, cutting and furious wave.

'Goddamn you, Stark, for dropping out of reach at a time like this…' the Octava breathed in, shaking his pink tresses. He shuffled past Ishida and leaned over Verona's shoulder.

'Lumina,' he called into the panels, not waiting for the Fraccion to respond. 'Go fetch me captain Kuchiki post haste. Mention nothing of Grimmjow or Stark. Last thing we'd want now is for Captain Kuchiki to learn that felines cannot be trusted…'

'You cannot know that!' Ishida exclaimed. 'There can be any number of reasons why you cannot find Grimmjow.'

'Such as?' Szayel Aporro snarled. 'Enlighten me with your infinite wisdom!'

'Such as, he is fighting too far away from the tower for you to feel him. Or he is already on the fourth level, with Kurosaki, and you cannot read him because of the sekki stone…'

'…or he is in the throne room, purring under Aizen's soft paternal touch!' the Octava sneered. This time, his reiatsu whipped forth, almost knocking Ishida off his legs. 'And Stark is probably snoring peacefully under the moon. I am surrounded by incompetents!' Szayel Aporro thundered.

'Would Stark not…'

Ishida swallowed dry, looking up at Szayel Aporro with childish hope for a contradiction. The Octava pursed his lips, and remained silent for what felt like a painfully long time.

'I doubt it,' Szayel responded, thoughtfully. 'Stark was the catalyst of all this, and he seldom gives up on his own master planning. He'd be the last to be offered a last minute pardon, and Aizen would find it hard to find a minion that is intimidating enough to make the offer credible. The power differential between Stark and Barragan is minimal. As is the one between me and Tousen,' the Octava unexpectedly snickered. 'Some things escape even God's eye,' he added, with obvious satisfaction.

'Also,' he said, 'Aizen has little to nothing to offer Stark – the lower Espada ranks have become slightly rarefied, but the first seat is still taken. Unless…'

Szayel Aporro stopped, making Ishida's heart skip a beat – the Octava folded the fingers of his left hand about his chin.

'Hm,' he said. 'Let's not dwell on _that_ one possibility, shall we?' he sweetly inquired, in a tone that made it painfully obvious that he would not explain further. 'Too many variables to align,' Szayel said, resuming his pacing.

* * *

For the first time since he had known the elderly Arrancar, Stark thought, Barragan actually looked flustered. His dry cheeks, which had the look and, most likely the feel of sanding paper were crimson; even in the dim light of the throne room, a thin mist of sweat glowed across his brow, under the edges of his crown.

He looked as if he had argued his position fiercely – not to Aizen, of course; he would not have dared. Judging by the look on Gin's features, he had been the target of Barragan's protests, which he had found deeply amusing. Much like he found everything else. For a moment, when Aizen had finally entered the throne room, he had actually looked as if he would take his arguments higher. He'd shifted in his chair, as if he'd tried to merge with the object – a clear signal that he was uneager to leave it.

That, of course, until Stark himself had lazily entered the room, on Aizen's trail, glancing around with pointed, sleepy disinterest. Nothing was outwardly changed after his second transformation, except for a second row of fangs, which had stretched around his neck, covering the old one it and rendering it all but invisible. Wave after wave of cold darkness swept in across the room, surrounding and challenging the sweetness and deceptive warmth of the Creator's reiatsu; as Aizen advanced towards his seat at the head of the table, Stark stopped on the other end, glancing at the long rows of empty seats with half-open, sleep ridden eyes, as if deciding which one to pick. Stark did not miss Tousen's ripped wrist, and inwardly stifled a chuckle, finally admitting to himself that perhaps Szayel Aporro's obvious insanity had some useful and thoroughly amusing side-effects. Nor did the fresh Primera miss the faint and rapidly healing claw marks on Gin's smiling face, and, for an instant, he barely repressed the temptation of sending out a reiatsu wave that would tell him if Grimmjow had survived the encounter.

After a moment of consideration, and after Aizen occupied his seat, he took a small step forward – Halibel was glancing at Barragan in open, wicked amusement, emerald green eyes shining over the tall collar of her dress. Refreshed and strengthened by the gem, Stark's reiatsu was stronger than Barragan's had ever been, and the Primera did not bother to hide it. Letting the energy loose felt much as flexing the fingers of a lost arm.

Then, finally yielding to the obvious, Barragan began to rise from his seat – though he attempted to keep his features straight, the bitterness in the hard, square line of his lower jaw was painfully obvious. Halibel snickered, and to the side, Gin's smile grew wider, the corners of his thin lips disappearing under the pale, silvery tresses.

'Oi, don't get up on my account,' Stark lazily muttered. 'It's just a chair.' He added, to Barragan's confused stare. 'Besides,' the Primera added, letting himself fall heavily the chair next to his old one – Ulquiorra's chair – 'I much prefer this one. Ulquiorra always looked so comfortable in it, I always wondered if he managed to slip a pillow in, somehow…'

Yammy's hammer-sized fist slammed into the side of the table, in an uncontrolled, furious gesture; to his credit, the Decima did not even flinch at Tousen's openly threatening growl.

'Dog,' Yammy muttered under his breath. 'Treacherous dog.'

'Yammy,' Aizen scolded, softly. 'We are reunited. We should be joyous.' In spite of the kindness in his voice, his reiatsu mercilessly slipped over the Decima, reminding him of his place. Yammy resisted the pressure for a single second, before unwillingly wincing and slumping back in his seat. Evading his control, his fingers stretched on the table, and he swallowed his next insult.

'Skipping the tea today?' Stark beamed; Barragan incredulously shook his head and slumped back in the seat in his turn.

'I would much rather hear what you have heard,' Aizen smiled in return. 'I am growing…' he added, leaning his cheek on the back of his hand, and glancing dreamily at Stark, 'slightly impatient.'

'What's there to say?' the Primera shrugged. 'You know who our visitors are – Kuchiki Byakuya, Zaraki Kenpachi, and the very lovely Unohana Retsu, vice-captains and all.'

'Where's da rest?' Gin inquired. 'Human world?'

'I guess,' Stark shrugged again. 'Kuchiki neither confirmed nor denied that.'

'Yeh, well, suits him,' Gin responded, prompting a slow nod from Aizen.

'I do not see where else they would be,' he agreed. 'And even if they are not in the human world, they shall join us as soon as we decide to cross. The plan is going well.'

Hands hidden in the sleeves of his kimono, Gin circled the council table, coming to stand at the opposite end from Aizen.

'How confident did Bya-kun seem?' he asked. 'Or was he doin' his patented imitation of a rock garden?'

'He was trying to,' Stark answered, sleepily glancing to the side. 'But I would not say he was overly confident. In fact, I'd state the opposite – he seemed rather skittish. You should seal the Garganta,' he added, non-directionally, and though his smile did not fade, Gin's brow's furrowed.

'Now, how d'ya know 'bout that?' he asked.

'If you planned to keep it secret, you should have not asked Szayel Aporro for things that impede cross world travel,' the Primera matter-of-factly responded. 'He puts two and two together quite fast.'

'Does captain Kuchiki know it as well?' Aizen inquired, no trace of anxiety in his voice.

'By now he should, unless he's an idiot, which I find hard to believe.' Stark responded.

'Ya, an idiot he ain't…' Gin nodded.

'You should seal the Garganta _now.'_ The Primera said, then yawned so wide his jaws cracked. 'In fact, you should have sealed them ten minutes ago.'

'Do not presume to tell Aizen-sama what to do, insolent…' Tousen snarled, taking a furious and wide stride forth.

'Just stating an opinion,' the Primera shrugged. 'You know how opinions are, Tousen-san, much like assholes. Everybody has one. Granted, some see more use than others. Opinions, of course,' he beamed. 'I'd never presume to give Aizen-sama any advice, even in this whole new world.'

His point was not missed – Tousen smirked, his lips drawing a thin, vicious line, but, though his right middle finger had passed though the ring that adorned his Zanpakutoh's hilt, he did not move.

'Bya-kun was skittish, ya say,' Gin thoughtfully muttered. Without lifting his chin from the back of his palm, Aizen nodded. ' 'ow skittish?'

'Well, as skittish a one might be with a troop made of two human kids, two rather weak and barely recovering Shinigami, three healers, a raging lunatic and a small pink animal I couldn't quite place,' Stark chuckled. 'How would you feel if you were him, Ichimaru-san?'

'Heee,' Gin laughed, cold, blue eyes meeting Aizen's glance over the table. 'I say, let him shit his pants a little. Let's go pay our respects to Yama-ji first, eh? Now that all the important people are back together an' in a good mood! Can deal with Ren-chan later.'

'Or not at all,' Aizen smiled, a twinge of wicked amusement in his eyes. 'Any secure fortification can become a very convenient tomb.' He slowly reasoned. 'We have no interest in killing them all at the present time – our target was, and remains entering the Sereitei. The faster we do so, the better. Very well, I do believe now, we are ready.' he nodded. 'I expect you to be prepared within the hour, my dear Espada.'

It took all of Stark's resolve not to shudder at the echo of the words through the long, empty chamber.

'Go prepare your Fracciones, and fetch me Inoue Orihime to the throne room,' he ordered, standing up. 'She is, after all, our unwilling heroine; she should be allowed to witness our triumph.'

Stark strode out of the room, hands deeply shoved in his pockets, heading for Orihime's chambers. He was seldom one to volunteer for anything, but now he felt an absolute and foreign desire of seeing the young woman; he knew that it was the last twinge of Ulquiorra's willpower, but he did not care. This time, he truly wished to keep himself occupied and out of his chambers. He knew that Halibel would soon follow him there, eager to show how impressed she was with his new found power; he'd always wondered whether she was unconsciously drawn to it, or she simply dispensed charm out of interest. Returning to him now would mean she would be another step closer to her precious Aizen…Not that it mattered. Not that it truly mattered whether she lusted for power in general or for Aizen's power alone.

The new Primera was yet again bored.

Lilinette appeared out of nowhere, and took a few steps by his side before speaking.

'I hate you,' she non-directionally said

'Mh,' he shrugged.

'No, I really hate you.'

'Mhhh,' he responded, in an equally wordy manner.

'What if he put something in the gem that's gonna make your right arm fall off, or make you grow horns or sumthin'? Eh? Think he gave you all of your reiatsu back for free?'

He grunted even more decisively, but it did not truly help.

'You're so scared your balls are withdrawing in your abdomen.' She shot again. 'Like with bunnies.'

'No, they're not,' he protested, giving her an injured glance. 'And even if they were, if you give me half an hour, Halibel is going to be all over to coax them out again.'

'Mh,' Lilinette muttered in her turn.

They walked side by side in silence for long minutes, until she spoke again.

'Aligning much variables so far?' she asked.

'Aligning,' Stark answered. 'And it's _many.'_

Up next - Fanfic meets canon. That's only because space time is curved.


	43. Of Love and Other Demons

Greetings from the sunny seaside :) An unapologetically romantic chapter for a pretty summer evening.

Thank all for reading and especially commenting :)

Chapter 44 - Where I actually enjoyed writing Orihime.

* * *

Orihime turned, tiny pale fingers clasped painfully tight to her chest; in the cruel moonlight, the dry trails of her tears looked grey and deep, as if they had been carved into her skin.

'Stark…sama,' she breathed. The brief look of…_joy_? He wondered, closing the door, that had flourished on her features when she had seen the light of the corridor appearing from behind had immediately vanished.

'Aizen-sama has a light show that he wants you to see.' Stark answered. 'We need make our way to the throne room in a short while.'

'What is happening?' the girl asked, in a tiny voice, not giving any sign of having heard or understood what he had said. 'Ulquiorra has not been to see me in two days, and no one will tell me anything…since you…'

She swallowed her words and her tears.

'…brought me back to this…_my…_' Orihime hastily corrected, 'room.'

Stark nodded, feeling thoroughly uncomfortable. How odd it was, he thought, keeping a respectful distance and letting the girl approach him on her own, that he felt more frightened of this human, who was barely more than a child than of the extremely powerful and dangerous creatures he had betrayed.

_Maybe it's Ulquiorra_. _Maybe that's how he felt._

'The Exequias who brings my food does not speak to me, she doesn't even look back at me,' she rapidly said, as if the all of the words that had been stuck in her heart for two maddeningly worrying days had wanted to pour out all at once. 'And…'

Orihime stopped two feet away, arms still folded and hands still clenched as if in prayer.

'…and Loly and Menoly were lurking outside the door, telling me lies, telling me…that you, and Grimmjow, and the Octava Espada, Granz…went insane, and defected, and went to the Shinigami, that Rukia, and Chad, and Renji, and Ishida were dead, and that Ulquiorra was dead too…But that cannot be true, Stark-sama – you're here...'

'I decided that no breed of Shinigami is better than another,' he responded. His voice had sounded cold and distant, barely his own. Orihime swallowed dry and blinked, sending a fresh wave of hot tears on the dried trails; she was shivering with every fiber in her body, obviously trying to make sense of the statement. 'I am back,' Stark said, neutrally, his statement confirming no more than that he had indeed been gone.

'You were with them?' Orihime asked. 'You saw and talked to them?'

He nodded, and her green eyes forgot to cry – instead, they came alive with light and hope, as if the entire circumstances surrounding his presence had suddenly become inconsequential. He brought her news, and almost forgotten hope, so nothing else mattered.

'And they're OK? Loly and Menoly lied?'

Stark laughed, the kind of laughter that no one but Lilinette had a guarantee of hearing.

'Yes,' he said, barely resisting the urge of patting the _trinket-that-could-undo-the-space-time- continuum _on the head. 'Your friends are alright. Except for the Chad you mentioned – I have not seen him, but none of the others seemed particularly embittered, so I assume…'

'Kuchiki-san? And Ishida-kun? And…'

Her breath failed her and her body swayed as if she'd been about to faint, overwhelming joy as devastating to her sleep deprived body as overwhelming pain.

'I think you need to sit almost as much as I want to nap,' Stark amusedly observed; Orihime stretched out her hand, seeking his arm. He wavered ever so slightly before offering it, but she did not catch his hesitation. He led her to the couch, then poured her a glass of water from the pitcher on the uncollected tray table, and frowned slightly to prompt her to drink.

'Please,' Orihime whispered, after swallowing hastily. 'Will you tell me…how they are? I know Aizen-sama would get angry if he knew you told me things, that's why Ulquiorra never tells me anything. But I've been so alone now, for such a long time…You can tell me, I won't say anything to anyone.' Her voice broke again, and she had to take another mouthful of water. 'It's been so long since I had any hope,' she added, pleadingly glancing up.

'They are all right,' Stark shrugged, feeling pleased with both the faint trace of color that crept across her cheeks, and with the fact that giving her hope was directly challenging Aizen's orders. 'Let me think who they were,' he chuckled, when Orihime's pleading glance told him the information was insufficient. 'I slept through the introduction of the mighty invaders meeting…'

'Kuchiki-san.' Orihime prompted.

'Kuchiki Rukia defeated her opponent; she got quite injured in the process but her brother's friends helped…'

'Captain Kuchiki is here?' Orihime frowned slightly.

'It was a just-in-time arrival, but yes, he is,' Stark nodded, somewhat surprised to see the fact that the mention of Byakuya's name seemed to make the young girl grow confident. God knew why, the man thought, with a little smirk. Soul Society had certainly not rushed to her help when she and her foolish and hearty friends had needed it most. 'Ishida is also alright; think he took the least damage of the lot. Who else?' he asked, arching an eyebrow.

'Abarai-kun?'

'Red-haired Shinigami?' Orihime nodded. 'Also fine, though I think by Ishida's intervention. And you already know Kurosaki is alright,' he concluded with a little shrug.

'And you say you have not seen Sado-kun,' young girl whispered, her voice trailing off. 'Oh,' she giggled. 'Sorry. Chad. We usually call him Chad, though, uhm, I don't know why.'

'I really doubt anyone was killed,' Stark answered. 'If I haven't seen him, they must have thought his wounds were serious enough to send him back to Soul Society, but he is not dead. I am very sure Kurosaki would have mentioned it a few times…'

'I knew it! I told Ulquiorra that Sado-kun was not dead, but nooo! He wouldn't believe me!' the girl exclaimed, darting to her feet and spilling whatever was left of the water on her dress. 'Oh. Sorry!' she said, blushing a little. 'I am very clumsy. Thank you so much for this, Stark-sama, you've given me the first bit of good news I've heard in…'

Orihime suddenly frowned, as the man's smile became crooked.

'I shouldn't be so happy, should I? The battle is not over,' she said, in a painfully blank tone. 'And the fact that they're all OK means nothing, if the battle is not over.'

'It means you were right to trust them,' the Arrancar returned, kindly. 'And that you have good reason to hope that they will eventually find you without me being around to return you to this room…' The human girl looked up at him with a note of amusing motherly reproach.

'Don't talk like all I am waiting for is for you…any of you, to get hurt so I can be free again. And you, Stark-sama, you haven't done anything to me, in fact, the few times I've seen you, uh, awake, you've always been nice.' she said. 'I don't want you to get hurt. I don't want anyone to get hurt,' Orihime whispered.

The Espada posed effort not to frown. The phrase should have sounded painfully artificial, or at least childishly unreal, yet, it had not. Inoue Orihime was thoroughly honest; it is no wonder Stark thought, that in the end her powers were useless to Aizen. Without harmful intent on behalf of the wielder, phenomenon rejection could not be used as a weapon. In this Ulquiorra had clearly failed his mission; he had obviously been chosen as the girl's guardian precisely to inspire sufficient hatred or sufficient fear, but either her inner kindness had been too strong, or he had not pressed resolutely enough.

'I think that is hardly avoidable at this stage in the process, Inoue-san,' he gently uttered.

'Is that what Aizen wants me to see?' Orihime asked, and the fact that she had not added the respectful suffix did not escape Stark. 'The final battle?'

'I assume so,' he replied. 'Or he thinks he may have use for your powers.'

'Do you think,' she whispered, in unexpected terror, 'that he'll make me heal…' Orihime cut herself off and swallowed dry, realizing what she had been about to say and, above all, who she was about to say it to.

'…us,' Stark helped, without malice. 'Don't worry, I can see how healing the enemy, and an already dead enemy to boot might not be your first choice of action,' he winked.

'No, no,' she rushed to deny, very sincerely. 'I don't mind that, I... But I don't want to help him against my friends.'

'I do not think you will have to,' Stark answered. 'They will not be fighting, or at least not in the beginning.'

'Why?' Orihime shot; he hesitated.

'You'll find out in a bit. I'd tell you, but then you wouldn't be suitably impressed by the light show. Sorry,' he concluded, with an apologetic grimace. 'My valiant demonstration of independence only goes so far.'

She nodded, and sat back down, clasping her hands in her lap and looking down at her knees.

'That's OK,' she said, in a voice that showed it clearly wasn't. 'You've already told me a lot, and I feel a bit better. You were just here to take me to the throne room.'

He nodded, biting his lower lip, and guessing what was to follow by the fact that her tiny hands desperately grasped at the delicate silk of the skirt.

'But why did Aizen send you? Ulquiorra was too busy to come? I'm silly,' she mechanically and artificially giggled. 'He ought to be, what with the final battle and everything…'

'I am very sorry,' he said softly, answering the question she hadn't asked.

Orihime did not look up; she nodded quickly and remained silent, one teardrop after the other falling on the immaculate white dress. She did not want to speak until she could bring some measure of control over her voice, so minutes passed. There were no sobs, and her breath was not even irregular, yet her shoulders shook uncontrollably.

'Who…' she managed, at long length. The syllable was all she could utter before the first sob escaped her lips, and she had to tense all of her body to stop another. 'Who…'

'I did,' Stark answered, finding that more words were unnecessary. Orihime cringed, almost bringing her knees to her chest – she had reacted as if she had been punched in the stomach. 'I did not want you to learn of this from Loly and Menoly or Aizen himself.' he added, softly. 'I thought both you and he deserved better, which is why I offered to bring you…'

Though she did nothing more than raise her chin, the sound of a slap echoed inside his mind, rolling over the empty walls of the chamber and making him shake his head and frown.

'In spite of your new rank?' she bit; it was the first time that she had mentioned the tremendous increase in his reiatsu.

'In spite of the fact that Lilinette could have just easily have done it,' he answered.

'But why,' she said. 'Why? Did you…did you just turn to kill him, so you could prove yourself? Why, if you came back to Aizen in the end, would you weaken your own side…You didn't need to,' Orihime whispered. 'You didn't. He could have lived, he could have changed, I could have changed him…'

'He should have hurt me,' she continued, trying to smile. 'We both knew he should have, but he didn't. He would have protected me in the end of all things.'

'Yes,' he said softly; he did not thoroughly believe his own words, but he saw no reason to share his doubts, just as he saw no reason to tell her that Ulquiorra's fear of what Grimmjow would do to her had been his undoing, and just as he saw no reason to tell her that each time he did not push her as hard as Aizen would have wanted, Ulquiorra had gambled an entire world.

'Ulquiorra and I were old enemies,' he said, instead. 'Even if Aizen-sama would have won without any of this coming to pass, we would have still clashed, and I still would have killed him. It was unavoidable, and simply a question of time. I am not here to apologise, though I do regret causing you pain.'

'I am here because I wanted to allow you time to grieve for one who you cared for and who _deeply_ cared for you in whatever privacy this chamber can offer. Yammy was not allowed the same; nothing but joy is allowed in God's presence.'

She looked up, pretty features marred by tears – a fragile, little and naïve woman, beloved to an enemy he had hated for the better part of his life.

'He regretted not having told you that you were indeed changing him,' Stark said, softly. 'That is all.'

He took a short bow and left, without looking back; as soon as the door had slid shut behind him, she'd finally begun to weep, cut sobs echoing faintly through the long corridor as Orihime mourned the sudden, incomprehensible loss of the hope for goodness and transformation in a bitter cold world.

'Keep Loly and Menoly off her,' he instructed Lilinette, as he started down the corridor. She acknowledged with a determined nod.

* * *

Unohana Retsu turned around, leaving Tesla to Isane's hands; the captain of the fourth bowed her head, giving both her lieutenant and Neliel Tu, who had also kneeled by Tesla's side, a small encouraging smile. She could not quite read the expression on Neliel's features – it was an odd mixture of surprise and compassion, yet the thing that amazed her most was the complete lack of disdain. As far as Unohana had understood, this young looking Arrancar had been a servant of the person who had attempted to kill the former Tercera. Still, Nel had not hesitated in offering her own healing powers as soon as she had laid eyes on him.

Clearly, the captain of the fourth thought, heading for Grimmjow, the beauty of all things lied in contradictions as much as it lied in harmony.

'He will be all right,' Unohana said softly.

The sound of her voice made Grimmjow startle visibly, and he defensively bared a canine, in empty threat.

The Sexta's resurrection had not faded. He'd been standing on the edge of the terrace since they had arrived, his entire body tensed and eyes staring blankly ahead as if he'd been preparing to leap over the edge at any moment, torn and furious at himself. Both Ichigo and an increasingly impatient Byakuya had tried to question him over Ichimaru Gin's presence, but neither had obtained anything more than a seemingly endless string of creative cursing.

'Do I look like I fucking care?' Grimmjow muttered.

'Would you like an honest response to the question?' Unohana asked back; unphased by the sudden bristling of the feline's mane, she sat next to him, both knees bent and hands folded patiently in her lap. 'Yes, you do. Is that not why you waited here?'

Grimmjow hissed and turned towards her, ready to contradict – the woman's kind smile made the words freeze on his lips.

'He will be all right,' Unohana repeated, and this time, the feline contented himself on a short nod.

'Fucking awesome. Another guy who'll now think I owe him somethin'' the Sexta muttered to himself, casting a menacing glance in Ichigo's direction. Unohana laughed.

'I doubt _he_ will think that,' she said.

'No reason why he fucking should,' Grimmjow snarled. 'What he did was bloody pointless and stupid. My Hierro can take ten times what his can – he ain't gonna pretend any different, and he didn't help me in any way…'

'Of course,' Unohana answered, lowering her glance to disguise her smile; irony had resounded in her voice nonetheless.

For a moment, Grimmjow looked furious enough to bite – his reiatsu tensed menacingly, making Byakuya inch forward; Ichigo, who'd been sitting next to Renji, darted to his feet as well, not knowing whether he was preparing to defend Unohana or Grimmjow. The captain of the fourth did not even blink.

The Sexta huffed a sigh, and looked away, anger fading to confusion as Unohana's reiatsu rose to cover his.

'You're as bad as Aizen,' he said. 'You'd be able to defeat me without even drawin''

'I doubt that will be necessary,' she laughed again, taking advantage of the fact that the Arrancar was not looking her way to gently shake her head and make Byakuya step down.

Though he tried to bravely disguise it, the nature of the woman's reiatsu left Grimmjow feeling completely defenseless, yet not threatened – an odd and artificial sensation of peace that he seldom, if ever, experienced. There was no point in hiding with this woman, he suddenly thought, not knowing and strangely not caring whether she'd planted the notion in his mind or he had realized it on his own. In the end, it did not truly matter.

'The very moment I tell you what he wanted, I'm gonna commit suicide,' he said blankly. 'And that's not even the best part – the best part is that if I don't tell you, I'm still gonna commit suicide. 'Cuz for however fucked-up the notion, we do actually need you bastards…Now even more than before – but I don't trust ya and you have no reason to trust me. Bloody hell.'

He closed his eyes, and his reiatsu pulsed – small, flame shaped lights of different colors flickered beneath his closed eyelids. The one he most wanted to find was absent.

'I don't like thinking this shit through,' he muttered. 'Don't like it at all. Where's bloody Stark when you need him most? He oughta be sortin this out, not me.' he growled, to no one in particular.

'I appreciate the difficulty of your position.' Unohana nodded.

Ichigo had expected Grimmjow's reiatsu to sharpen again. Instead, with another deep sigh the Arrancar finally allowed his released form to fade; claws and tail retreated, and Pantera materialized between his fingers. He crossed his legs and placed her on his knees, looking at the blade as if he'd seen it for the first time.

It didn't really matter.

'Did Ichimaru Gin simply try to kill you, or was there something else he wanted?' Unohana asked.

Grimmjow cursed softly under his breath, and looked into the distance.

'Yeah, he wanted something else,' he answered. 'But I think by now it doesn't fucking matter anymore. I think it's already too late to even talk about it, and bloody Tesla almost getting himself killed and making me lose the only five minutes that could've made a difference pisses me off like I can't say.'

'What did he want?'

'He wanted me to go back to Aizen,' the Arrancar snarled. 'They can't fill Ulquiorra's little shoes, so they're trying to get at least one of us back into the game…An' Gin picked the wrong fucking cat to toy with, I can tell you…Not that I didn't turn on your account, but…I didn't. Kurosaki can bloody testify to that.'

'There is no need for further testimony. You're here, and I believe you,' Unohana smiled. 'But why is it too late to discuss this?'

'Cuz I'm sure fucking Tousen picked better than Gin did. The insect that built and masters Castle Doom is easily distracted by shiny things,' the Sexta snarled. 'An' I bet he will find whatever they've offered him – prolly fifth Espada - mighty distracting.'

Unohana frowned.

'If that stupid little kid hadn't gotten between me an' Gin, I'd have gone and ripped Szayel Aporro's throat open before Tousen could get to him,' the Sexta drawled. 'Always wanted to see how the fuck he manages to swallow without chocking.' He concluded, with a furious grimace. 'But Tesla did get in between, and though I oughtn't have looked back at the little shit, I…'

'You wanted to make sure he would be all right, first,' Unohana nodded.

'And I wasted time. Too much time, bringing him to ya... That's why,' Grimmjow bitterly snickered, 'Stark's the one with all the strategic bloody vision. I _know_ I shouldn't act with the first thing that pops into my brain, I even see what I'm doin' is wrong an pointless but I still fucking do it. Can't stop myself.'

He shook his head, in absolute self disappointment.

_Cuz I'm fucking weak. Can't ignore loyalty. Never could. That's why I was never king. Cuz they were loyal to me, and I couldn't stop myself from giving loyalty in return. Just like now._

'And now it's way too late. I half expect the floor to rise up and swallow us,' Grimmjow sighed. 'Any minute now. Szayel Aporro can't be trusted for shit… So, yeah. There ya have it.'

'Watcha doin' back there, pretty boy?' he suddenly snarled, turning to Byakuya. 'Now that ya know you were right all along and we can't be counted on, don't you have a Senkai Gate to go open, so you can haul ass? Go ahead an' do it now, while you still got the time…'

Somewhere behind, Kenpachi laughed.

'You're none too bright, are you, boy?' he managed, between wild chuckles.

Even Byakuya smiled; Ichigo approached and sat by the Sexta's other side, causing him to frown in terrible confusion.

'Grimmjow,' Ichigo began. 'You're a dolt. You don't betray us, but you expect us to betray you? You ought to know me better than that by now. 'Sides,' the human grinned, 'Nel's up here, and she's already told us everything about closing the Garganta and whatnot.'

'Uh.' Grimmjow muttered. 'But you people are still hanging about…'

'Indeed,' Byakuya said, in an even, superior tone. 'Neliel Tu has finally been honest with us. So have you. And I too accept,' he added, with a glance in Unohana's direction, 'that in the end, honesty matters regardless of the nature of one's soul. We have a common enemy, and we will fight him together; I cannot swear to our success and I cannot swear to what will happen after the battle,' he concluded, with an odd, kind vibration. 'Yet, sometimes, seeing too far ahead makes one stuble upon the first twig that is a mere step away.'

The Sexta turned around, his glance darting from Unohana's amused little grin to Ichigo to Byakuya's stern features.

'Loyalty. Honor, trust in combat and all that shit,' Renji completed, standing up behind his captain and crossing his arms over his chest. Grimmjow's eyes narrowed. 'Isn't that what you said yourself? Sometimes they do go both ways.'

'Even if surprisingly so, and from the most unexpected of people.' Rukia added; the words of a woman he'd twice almost killed had an odd effect, and the first time in his young memory, the Sexta felt a twinge of…embarrassment? Regret? He could not quite tell, and he swallowed dry.

'We're not leaving, Kitty-san,' Yachiru giggled. 'We're gonna stay.'

'And we're gonna have loads of fun,' Kenpachi laughed in his turn. 'We should stop the pointless chatter and go downstairs,' he added, lazily swinging his sword arm as Yachiru jumped on his shoulder. 'Let's take a look at things - if the mewling one decides to betray us, all the worse for him and the better for us. More things to cut,' Zaraki grinned wide.

* * *

Up next - Aizen speaks :)


	44. Finding Nemu

Hello, hello :) As usual, thank all for reading and commenting :D Tonight, we cross canon, and move on into an AU where Charlotte Coolhorn does not exist (or gets squished very, very fast...). Special thanks to Maidros, who keeps me on track :D

_Ariadne's thread_ - Thread given to the greek hero Theseus by Ariadne, the daughter of the king of Crete. It helped Theseus navigate a legendary labyinth and slay the minotaur that lurked in its depths. Generally, something that one should follow :)

Warnings: Szayel Aporro being Szayel Aporro. Lilinette being, well, Lilinette.

Chapter 44 - Where I mercilessly quote Kubo Tite :)

* * *

The tall doors swung open, cutting an arch of light into the oppressive semi obscurity; Halibel did little but half turn towards Orihime, shoulders stiff and arms sternly crossed over her chest. The girl hesitated in the doorway, looking around as if she had been hoping to find someone who would spare her from whatever new terror awaited her next.

'Close the door behind you, girl,' Halibel said coldly, turning away again, her superficial interest in the young human immediately spent.

Orihime mechanically obeyed, feeling grateful for even the most minor distraction from her overwhelming anxiety and sadness. She pushed the door closed, lingering on all the details of the delicate knob, and the silvery veins that ran across the perfectly polished wood, making it gather the appearance of marble, to make herself stop fearing the next few minutes.

Barragan did not spare her a single glance. He simply stood at the foot of the wide steps that led to Aizen's empty marble throne, looking up at the seat with an odd, questioning glance. In turn, Orihime was painfully aware of Yammy's blank stare, which unapologetically lingered on her face; she supposed her eyes were red and puffy, but she had dried all of her tears, and dearly hoped that she appeared sufficiently composed. The girl met the Decima's glance and sustained it, surprised by the expression of deep, repressed pain that lingered on the surface of the giant's normally blank, small eyes. She swallowed dry, to repress the bitter knot that instantly rose to her throat, and managed a small, encouraging nod in the Espada's direction.

She did not know why she had done it; she did not even know why she suddenly felt such pity for a person that had previously left her completely indifferent, if not even a little fearful and angry. He was, after all, the one that had hurt Sado-kun, he was a thoroughly thick, evil creature, who was capable of absorbing hundreds of innocent human souls without a trace of hesitation, yet…

Yammy's jaw clenched; he looked away, a bit too pointedly, and stubbornly maintained his head turned away from Orihime.

The chamber was teeming with Numeros, none of whom Orihime had seen before, and, for a few seconds, the girl hoped that Halibel's words and Yammy's strange glance would be the only attention she'd be given until Aizen would make his appearance. She was not sufficiently lucky.

'Ooorihimeee-chan!' Loly wickedly chanted, drifting close, hands clenched behind her back, in a posture that made her breasts seem even more unashamedly ill-covered. 'Aw,' she said, looking over her shoulder to her sister. 'Look, Menoly. Think Orihime-chan has been crying?'

'But why would Orihime-chan cry?' Menoly innocently asked from behind. She shuffled forward, circling at an arm's length.

'Maybe she's scared,' Loly hissed. 'Maybe she found out Ulquiorra-sama won't be around her door anymore. Just like we told her…'

A few stifled chuckles emerged from the gathered Numeros – Orihime did not have the strength to look up and see who had laughed. It hardly mattered. They were all probably amused, although few of them would be brave enough to show it outwardly.

'Well?' Menoly asked. 'Isn't that true? We did tell you, we did try to keep you up to speed with…'

'Leave me alone, please,' Orihime said, in a tiny voice. She tried to distance herself from the two and draw closer to the throne, and instinctively seeking to lose herself within a group that would not grant her either protection or anonymity. Still, the girl thought, perhaps the two would not attack her so viciously with so many present; they would not dare to start a fight here, now…Only, of course, Orihime realized, noticing that neither Halibel nor Barragan lent the scene any attention, and the Numeros drew away from her path, it would not be a fight – she had neither the willpower nor the strength to fight back.

'Leave me alone,' she repeated, blankly.

'Don't be sad, Orihime-chan,' Menoly continued, following closely. 'I know!' she chided. 'Maybe you can bring him back! Like you brought me!'

'Don't be stupid, Menoly,' Loly smirked, coming close enough to casually grab a strand of Orihime's hair. She did not tug at it – she merely stretched it, the pull promising to become painful at any second. 'To bring him back, she'd need something solid of him.'

'Ah, yeah, right!' Menoly chuckled; a few others joined. 'Only, there's nothing left. Because, you know, Orihime-chan, Stark-sama killed him, then, well…'

She paused, with sadistic joy imprinted on her features; the look of aggrieved surprise that she had expected failed to surface. Orihime simply kept staring at the floor.

'I know,' the human said, softly. 'I already know. You can't hurt me with this. Just leave me alone,' she whispered.

Loly grimaced horribly, in obvious disappointment, but it only took her a second to recover – with renewed fury, she pulled Orihime's hair, forcing her head back.

'Ah, so you know?' she hissed, in the human's ear. 'And you're still so cocky?'

'Stupid bitch,' Menoly muttered. 'Nothing to be cocky about.'

'Wanna know another secret?' Loly sneered. 'It's not only Ulquiorra that's gone; there's going to be no protection for you, Orihime-chan. None at all, and in a few minutes you're going to be all ours. Because Aizen-sama…'

Light exploded behind, and for a moment, Orihime felt the tug on her hair was so strong that it would toss her to the ground – it was only after Loly's fingers had unexpectedly slipped clear of her hair that she turned, and realized that this last, painful and desperate pull had not been intentional. That Loly had simply tried to keep herself on her feet, and failed. Orihime blinked in confusion, not understanding why Loly was sprawled on her back, on the floor, arms and legs spread in all directions.

'Oi!' Lilinette exclaimed, leaning over Loly. 'You deaf? Leave 'er alone.'

'What are you doing?' Menoly breathed; quickly recovering from her confusion, Loly used her Sonido to get up and behind her sister.

'Don't interfere, Lilinette' she hissed, the tips of her pony tails swaying with the furious rise of her reiatsu. 'This is none of your business!'

Confused by the turn, other Numeros took a step closer the scene, nonetheless guarding a safe distance. More than a few cast curious glances over their shoulders at the three Espada, wondering if any of them would intervene, but, Orihime noticed, neither Halibel nor Barragan were eager to lend the scene any more than a superiorly amused glance. To the human's surprise, Yammy had drawn closer, watching intently as if he had intended to intervene; there was, however, no need.

'Ain't none of your business either,' Lilinette answered, coming to stand between Orihime and the other two fracctiones, and propping her clenched fist to her tiny hip. 'You keep talking 'bout stuff that's way over your heads, as if anyone was giving ya any attention. No one is, so, go be irre…irru…Hm,' she paused and considered, for a second. '_Irrelevant!_ Go be irrelevant somewhere else. Smart way of saying 'fuck off'', she proudly explained, turning by half and winking to Orihime. 'Wha'?' she snapped, noticing that Loly had unwisely drifted a step closer, her features twisted in a furious grimace. 'Didn't Grimmjow just give ya a proper thrashing? Didn't ya have enough?'

Loly and Menoly exchanged a glance, visibly encouraging and spurring each other on, but, in spite of the fact that Lilinette seemed to be smaller and frailer than either of them, neither of the two had the courage to advance.

'Speaking of which, how _is_ your buddy Grimmjow, Lilinette?' Menoly asked, with narrowed eyes and cruel amusement in her trembling voice. 'I hear he's in good health, yet not for long…'

Orihime saw Lilinette's shoulders tense.

'You wanna mouth off even more? You want a piece of me?' the blonde little girl snapped, shaking her fist in Menoly's direction. 'You want a piece of me, huh?' She took a step forward – in perfect synchronicity, and much to Orihime's amazement, the two took a step back. ''Cuz if you wanna get it on, I'm all for it, 'cuz you know I can kick your faces in. But I gotta warn ya, if you don't scram, I'm gonna show you pain like you've never seen before…' She took another step forward, yet this time, Loly and Menoly's no longer hesitant, but clearly terrified expressions and hasty retreat were not due to Lilinette's open threat, but rather to the fact that Stark had lazily shuffled in behind his fracction, and had stopped immediately behind Orihime, his gaze fixed on the two. Oblivious to his presence, Lilinette pressed on.

'Gonna show you a whole new _spectrum_ of pain,' she continued. 'Like, like, a lot of shiny stars, and lights, and colors, like….uhm, like a rainbow!' she victoriously concluded, spreading her fingers and drawing a wide arch through the air, to perfectly illustrate her point. Unwillingly, Orihime stifled a chuckle. 'So,' Lilinette added, 'lest you really do wanna get it on with me, I suggest you leave Orihime alone and go pick on a cockroach your own size!'

The two remained motionless and frozen in fright, their eyes fixed not on Lilinette, but on the Primera Espada behind her, as if awaiting his orders.

'Boo!' Stark quietly mouthed, conclusively raising his eyebrows – Loly and Menoly scrambled away, faster than the speed of thought.

Lilinette turned towards Orihime, giving her a wide grin.

'That's how ya do it!' she triumphantly concluded. 'What are y'all looking at?' Lilinette thundered, towards the rest of the Numeros – they turned away and dispersed, muttering between themselves but not even daring to cast a further glance at Orihime.

'Thank you…Lilinette…' Orihime managed, in a tiny voice. She managed to smile at the Fraccion, but then cast an uncertain glance at Stark - the Primera shuffled past her without meeting her stare. Though he did not look up from the floor, the frightened Numeros drew away, creating a wide path. A wicked, amused light glowing in her emerald eyes, Halibel stretched out her hand, bidding him closer. When he lazily approached, she snuggled close, brushing her shoulder against his, obviously amused and pleased by the fearful reaction of the unranked Arrancar.

'It's good to have _you_ back,' the Tercera observed, in a sensuous voice.

He did not respond, but he did not draw away when her arm snaked around his waist.

'Bitch,' Lilinette muttered under her breath, making Orihime stare at her in surprise; the young girl's voice had sounded cold and hateful, vibrating with chilling jealousy. The human did not have time to dwell on the thought – freezing silence, as well as massive, oppressive reiatsu announced Aizen's entrance.

In a movement that almost seemed choreographed, the Numeros drew to the sides, clearing a wide pathway towards the throne.

Followed by Tousen and Gin, and looking neither left, nor right, Aizen made his way towards the throne; stunned, and feeling as if all others in the room had vanished, leaving her alone with the ex-Shinigami's monstrous presence, Orihime did not have the strength to move out of their way. She felt like a fly trapped in a jar of thick molasses, her senses overwhelmed by his reiatsu and her body numbed like that a straw puppet.

Through the corner of her eye, she noticed that Halibel had hastily drawn away from Stark, but the relevance of the gesture evaded her – instead, she felt her mind and heart overwhelmed with a paralyzing sense of fear, unlike anything that she had ever felt before. Alone, in the dome of light drawn by the wide open door, Orihime looked up.

'Orihime,' Aizen said, stopping beside her. The sweetness in his voice was more punishing than any whiplash. 'What is it? Why the sour face?'

His fingers drifted along the young woman's jaw line, and, feeling as if she had no will of her own, Orihime did not draw back as his lips descended towards hers, softly and sensuously like those of a lover.

'A girl like you should smile more often,' he whispered, in the pained silence of the room. 'Overcast skies blot out the sun, and that brings everyone's spirits down,' he continued, his breath caressing her cheek. 'So why not let the sun shine, if only for the time being? You needn't worry,' he concluded, reassuringly patting the terrified girl's hand, and mercifully stepping away. For a moment, Orihime dared hope – it was dishearteningly brief.

'We shall be back shortly,' Aizen snickered, stopping in the middle of the stairs to look over his shoulder. The giant mouth of a Garganta split the darkness, and, accompanied by a strong gust of perfumed wind, which carried the smell of trees, and rain, and homes, and flowers, a vision of the human world erupted behind him. 'Just as soon as we lay waste to Karakura town.'

'Destroy…' she whispered, 'Karakura Town?'

'Indeed,' Aizen laughed. 'We shall destroy Karakura Town, and generate the Ouken…Kaname,' he distractedly said, once more facing into the innocent light. 'The Tenteikuura.'

'Yes,' Tousen responded, in his regular, disciplined tone; he reached into his pocket, extracting a few shimmering disks – yet, unlike the rest of the audience, Orihime did not follow Tousen's gestures. She felt Stark's reiatsu sweeping over her as the Primera ended his Sonido a few steps away, and kneeled, putting his arms around his Fraccion's shoulders. No other was watching, all eyes adoringly fixed on God's light, and Orihime did not hear his words – she made them out from the slow, decisive movement of his lips.

'Lilinette,' Stark said, softly, his arms keeping the Fraccion's gaze ahead. 'Sonido to our _new _tower. Now. Burn your brightest light.'

'Eh?' Lilinette breathed, in utter surprise.

'Burn your brightest light, Lilinette,' Stark repeated – Tousen's disks floated through the air, swirling and leaving a fascinating, complex pattern in their wake. 'And once you have, say _Ariadne's thread. _Loudly and clearly, Lilinette.'

Orihime frowned, her expression perfectly mirroring Lilinette's. Stark did not flinch.

'Say it three times, then Sonido back here,' he continued. 'I don't want to know that you were ever gone.'

'I don't understand shit,' Lilinette whispered, looking at him in utter fright; just as Tousen's light pattern stabilized, and Aizen turned to face the assembly, Stark kissed her forehead, then vanished to reappear at the foot of the throne. His last words seemed merely an illusion.

'The one who watches will,' Stark whispered – even if there had been sound, it would have been drowned in the other, commanding and majestic voice.

'My dear invaders,' Aizen said, his smile soft and humble. 'Can you hear me?'

Orihime's heart froze once more.

* * *

Each minute felt like an hour – only rendered longer and more excruciating by Szayel Aporro's pacing. Ishida watched quietly for a few moments, before challenging himself to speak again, fully aware of the fact that time passed in his disfavor. If he did not utter the words now, there would be few chances to do so in the future. Once Kuchiki walked in, events would precipitate desperately – they would, he was assured, be off to the human world in a matter of minutes. Ishida needed to seize this opportunity.

'Szayel Aporro,' he said.

The overly exasperated expression on the Arrancar's features melted as soon as his glance met Ishida's.

'Once Captain Kuchiki arrives, they will go to the human world, or back to the Sereitei within minutes. I…' the Quincy began, finding that the speech he had constructed and rehearsed ten times over in his mind refused to dislodge itself from his throat. 'I understand,' he willed himself on, 'that if we fight in the human world you will not be able to use Gabriel on Nemu, and that now she is as useless to you as she is to the rest of them…'

'You further acknowledge that with the present turn of events, I don't have any incentives to do anything for her, or you. While before, had we not been hurried, I might have lacked incentives, but had some time or interest, now even the time and the interest are gone.' Szayel Aporro followed, arching a demonstrative eyebrow. 'Just hurrying the pleading process along,' he derisively purred, to Ishida's furious blush.

'If…when the battle will begin, she'll be left behind, and I know that even if we are successful, they will not even look over their shoulders for her.'

'Vice-captain Kotetsu will,' Szayel Aporro shrugged. 'She is delightfully compassionate, that one. I am sure that she spent her long forgotten human life nursing kittens back to health.'

'Even if Isane worries about Nemu, she has little power to use with anyone but Captain Unohana, and Captain Unohana herself will not do more than ask you to give Nemu her freedom. Which is what I am doing now.'

Szayel Aporro's eyes narrowed. He had not missed the nuance.

'Somehow,' he seductively uttered, 'I doubt you and Unohana Retsu would be asking for _exactly_ the same thing.'

Ishida nodded rapidly, not bothering to contradict.

'If I could kill Mayuri Kurosutchi,' Szayel snappily responded, 'I would have done it already. Unless you are more informed on the subject…'

'I am not,' Ishida admitted, softly. 'I have defeated him once, and…'

'You?' Szayel snickered incredulously. 'Defeated _him?_'

'Shot through his bankai to blow off half of his body, to be thoroughly correct,' Ishida muttered. 'Then he reverted to this state and slithered away, leaving whatever I had breathed in of Ashizogi Jizou to finish me off. Nemu saved my life.'

'Touching,' Szayel said, his voice sounding on the verge of tears, while his superiorly amused grin demonstrated how inconsequential the account had been to him.

'You are missing the point,' the archer continued, in a trembling voice. 'He left me to die, he even stated he did, and she saved my life going directly against his wishes.'

'I,' Szayel Aporro began, in a threatening tone, 'am not missing anything. I already know Nemu-chan is capable of disobedience,' he concluded, with a graceful shrug. 'I will not argue that she has no mind of her own.'

'That's not what I am telling you,' Ishida insisted. 'I am saying that I think I know what makes Nemu act independently, and that I am sure that if you would help her with the one thing she needs, she could be free of him for good…'

'And all of this is important to me because…' Szayel Aporro prompted, in infinite boredom.

'Because,' the Quincy said, swallowing dry before uttering the words, 'if you listen to me and help her, I will let you put…that _thing…_on me before we go to the human world…'

Szayel tilted his head I surprise, then pressed a finger to his lips and smiled resplendently, taking a step closer.

'I find that statement and the prospect more than mildly arousing.' He said, leaning in – it took all of Ishida's resolve not to pull away as the Arrancar drew close enough to whisper in his ear. 'But you are wording it all wrong. Fornicares is a _she_. Depersonalizing her makes me a very naughty boy.' The archer painfully caught his breath; the Arrancar's did not miss the reaction, and snickered lightly.

'I hope you understand what you are offering. Gabriel would kill you, little Quincy.' Szayel continued to purr. 'Quite grotesquely so, I might add.'

'I know,' Ishida nodded, feeling the Octava's reiatsu crawling over his skin like a myriad shameless fingertips. In stark contrast to his openly threatening tone, his physical proximity was unpleasantly relaxing, each breath making Ishida feel as if he had been inhaling a mild, but irresistible hallucinogen. 'You have nothing to lose in this – you'd have your resurrection secured, and your welfare would become my welfare…I would desperately watch out for you…'

'You'd help me in battle, would you?' Szayel Aporro laughed, his voice dripping irony. 'And since you were so _mighty_ an opponent, your attention as an ally would make me breathe fully at ease…'

His reiatsu solidified as he chuckled, and Ishida felt as if his entire body had been covered in warm honey.

'Also,' Szayel Aporro continued, once his frightening snickering fit had passed, 'you forget that I could put Fornicares on you without your explicit permission at any time I choose, either now, or when you next turn your back, or in the human world. Furthermore, letting go of Nemu-chan, even if keeping her doesn't give me an immediate advantage would be akin to tossing a perfectly good back-up circuit because it is not needed at the moment. You are not making me a serious offer.' He playfully prompted.

'Stark said you are capable of doing selfless good,' the Quincy chocked out.

'Oh,' Szayel Aporro said, once again bursting into disheartening laughter. 'And if Stark said it, it _must_ be so!' The laughter died abruptly – the flavor of his reiatsu instantly turning cold. 'Let me offer you a piece of advice, little Quincy.' He hissed, his cold and strangely perfumed breath caressing the young man's cheek. 'The fact that you and he shared a little droplet of a genetic accident does not mean that whatever the master planner says is true. Also, if you did not notice, me and him are not exactly on the best of terms. Mentioning his opinion of me makes me quite eager to prove the exact opposite. Just to make a point.'

'Please don't,' Ishida whispered, in complete surrender.

The Octava pulled away, snickering to himself and shaking his pink tresses in disbelief.

'Aren't you even the slightest bit curious?' Ishida muttered – to his dismay, the Arrancar all but bent over with hysterical amusement.

'_Now_ you're pulling out all the stops!' he shrieked. 'Truly, you are irresistible…'

'Please, please help her. It would take no effort on your part, less than a minute of your time, and I'd do anything…'

Szayel straightened and turned – and, for a mere instant, Ishida felt frightened at the implications of his statement, which the Arrancar's smirk brought into sharp relief.

'That is a welcome change, and finally an offer worth considering. _Anything_ has a world of possibilities to it.' the Octava smiled, twisting a lock of hair around his left index. 'Which is most fortunate, indeed, because unlike vice-captain Abarai, you are exactly my type…'

Sadly for an otherwise perfect performance, his left eyebrow twitched. Ever so slightly.

'You're teasing me!' Ishida breathed, not knowing if he should have been relieved or furious. 'Bastard!'

'No, Quincy,' Szayel Aporro chuckled, straightening and clenching his hands behind his back – a completely different sound, that reflected gentle amusement and no mockery. 'I am not teasing. That would be cruel and pointless. I am _educating_ you.' He frowned slightly. 'You are seventeen. And Nemu-chan is, granted, a very pretty girl – also a kitten in desperate need of being nursed back to health. Yet, she is merely the first, not the last kitten that will stray across your path, Ishida Uryu. I do hope for your welfare that you're not stupid enough to make random self-sacrificing offers on all of your future kittens' behalf. Especially to people who just might take them.' He grinned. 'Such as, say, myself. And all on behalf of the kittens you won't get to keep.'

'You do understand that you will not get to keep her?' he asked, in a tone that was painfully bland.

'Will you help her?' Ishida pressed.

'You'll never have her,' Szayel indifferently warned.

'That doesn't seem to stop you,' the Quincy breathed. For a moment, he feared he had said the absolutely wrong thing; then, Szayel Aporro turned around once more, heading for his panels.

'No need to go there,' he chuckled lightly. 'You had me on the _curiosity _phrase.' The Arrancar sat down and mischievously cranked his nose. 'But you truly are so very cute when you beg.'

'You're not going to ask for…anything,' Ishida brought himself to say, 'in return?'

Szayel sighed in utter boredom, looking at Ishida over the frames of his glasses, and not answering the question.

'So?' he prompted. 'We had agreed on less than a minute, and you have been standing and gaping at me for more than fifteen seconds now. Forty five seconds left. What is the miracle cure?'

'Eh…'

'There actually _is_ a miracle cure, right?' Szayel muttered.

'Physical distance,' Ishida said, fast.

'Excuse me?' the Octava gasped.

'If he is out of a certain range, he cannot control her. All you have to do is move him to a different level, preferably keep him there to the end of all time, and Nemu will be fine. I am sure they will not come back for him either.'

'Well, now…' Szayel said, obviously taken aback. 'That is quite the…dramatic…let-down…I thought we needed to strap Nemu-chan to a table and look for her reset button…'

'I told you it was simple,' Ishida said, approaching rapidly, and feeling his heart was beating somewhere under his chin.

'It is too simple,' Szayel muttered. 'So simple, in fact, that I believe it cannot possibly work. Was he that dumb?' the Arrancar wondered, sounding mildly insulted.

'Could you just try it?' Ishida snapped, making the Arrancar emit a frightened little shriek and splay his hand over his heart.

'Yes, oh omnipotent authority figure,' he mocked – with a sequence of keys, he made the container that held Mayuri slip inside the wall. Both turned towards Nemu in perfect sequence, looking at her as if they had awaited some sort of lightning bolt or explosion of light to occur. The girl did not switch positions, and did not look up.

'Go talk to her,' Ishida prompted, after two awkward minutes passed.

'You go talk to her,' Szayel Aporro smirked in return.

'It's you he reacts to strongly,' the Quincy retorted. The Arrancar muttered a cut off insult, but yielded to the logic and stood, shuffling towards the container. Ishida followed a step behind. Szayel Aporro bent his knees, to bring himself to Nemu's height – she did not react to his approach, and he scrutinized her for what felt like an eternity.

'I would be grateful…'

Her tiny whisper, creeping from the multitude of amplifiers, startled them both.

'I would be grateful if you did not Mayuri-sama,' Nemu said, softly.

Ishida cringed and sighed, and Szayel Aporro pursed his lips in confusion.

'Are you alright, Nemu-chan?' Ishida asked, leaning over the Arrancar's shoulder. 'Is he gone?' he asked, pointlessly lowering his voice.

'He is no longer able to assume direct control over my physical form…'

Szayel smirked in disbelief, yet none had time to explore the matter further; another voice, with its familiar, silky sound erupted from everywhere and nowhere.

'My dear invaders…can you hear me?'

'Shit,' Szayel cursed, darting to his feet and heading for the laboratory door so fast that Ishida could barely catch a glimpse at him moving. 'What the hell is Verona doing? And where are the bloody Shinigami? All of them, incompetent buffoons! And that fucking cat! Grimmjow!' the Octava screamed in annoyance.

'Szayel Aporro!' came the inhumanly high echo, only mildly concealed by the door of the laboratory.

Ishida barely had the time to register – or rather imagine, the occurrences of the next few seconds. The laboratory door slid upwards, and Szayel flickered towards it at blinding speed, Fornicares drawn and cackling with furious energy.

Grimmjow pounced in, landing on one knee and pushing himself upwards, under the Octava's defenses.

Fornicares stopped inches from his throat, just as Grimmjow's tensed fingers stopped an inch before sinking into the Octava's chest.

'Grimmjow?' Szayel whimpered.

'Szayel Aporro?' the Sexta returned, human as well as Hollow jaw hanging open in amazement. The two stared at each other, blinking with incomprehension – the very same expression that was imprinted on Ishida's features, as well as on the features of the Shinigami group that still stood in the hallway.

'Allow me to express my deepest respect for your continued success against my Espada. As of now, with complete ranks,' Aizen's voice continued, 'we are commencing our invasion of the human world.'

'Shit,' Szayel Aporro cursed. 'Shit, shit, shit…'

Unlike the Octava, Grimmjow did not quite find his voice.

'I take it, then, that…' Unohana began, with a little frown.

'...Stark…' Neliel Tu whispered, her deeply pained voice drawing Szayel Aporro's attention and making Fornicares' edge tremble, then lower. In his turn, Grimmjow backed away.

'It cannot be,' Ishida breathed. 'He wouldn't…'

'What do I keep telling you about this guy? For a day now!' Ichigo exclaimed, throwing his arms up in exasperation.

And, while pained acceptance replaced confusion on the Quincy's features, and drew all color away from Neliel Tu's cheeks, Aizen's voice continued to silkily slither around them, fluid and deceivingly sweet, but dangerous and terrifying, like the dance of a school of electric eels.

'Inoue Orihime I am leaving in the fifth tower. If you wish to retrieve her, you may come and make your attempt.'

Grimmjow punched the side of the door, making it bend as if the solid metal had been no more than malleable clay.

'I no longer have any use for her.' Aizen concluded.

None of them noticed the faint, green light flicking discreetly at the side of one of Szayel Aporro's panels.

The fact that Szayel Aporro himself failed to notice it was a herald of the end of the world.

* * *

Up next - Grimmjow is smart. Yes, S-M-R-T, SMART! (uh...)


	45. Swang the Edge Down

Evening all :) And thank you for reading and commenting! I am as usual greatful for your attention and kind words :D As I am afraid it has become usual, my Up Next got overthrown by inspiration, and we're headed in a completely different direction. That's of course, not to say that Grimmjow is not smart. It's just to say he'll be SMRT a bit later :) Thank you all for reading and commenting, and, again as usual, many thanks to Maidros for slaving with me :)

Chapter 45 - Where Szayel loses his temper.

* * *

'Remind me to smack cherry blossom boy one right in the kisser!' Lilinette huffed as she floated out of the last of the Garganta, picking her nose with indifference which seemed ill-fitting with the furious tone of her voice. 'Actually, make that two!' she muttered.

Fully understanding the sentiment, Stark shrugged and nodded. The Gotei alignment before them was indeed something to wonder at, and, had Kuchiki Byakuya deigned to _confirm the assumption_, Stark suspected he would have been much more at ease and much less inclined to take convoluted action of his own.

As was, however…

Standing behind Aizen, at the front of an impressive contingent of unranked Numeros that God seemed to have conjured out of thin air in the past couple of days, and with the illusion of Karakura Town stretching under his feet, the Primera reckoned he had done well so far; he had recovered his reiatsu, although, just like Lilinette, he did suspect a trap came attached to Aizen's sudden and oddly discrete generosity. Yet, even if it was so, he had placed his Fraccion in a far safer position, and he modestly thought he had had a minor contribution to Aizen's decision of going after the human world first – the only thing that was absolutely necessary now was finding a way of surviving whatever encounter lay ahead, as long as it would take for Szayel Aporro to catch Lilinette's message and react to it.

Stark did not doubt the Octava would receive it; he had, after all, mentioned that the first tower had two of his remaining functional sensors, and, out of all of them, Szayel Aporro was the most likely to actually understand the mythological reference. Because, Stark thought, with a sigh, Szayel Aporro did know everything. Even things he had no excuse for knowing.

There was, of course, a minor kink in the plan – the new Primera chose not to focus on it too much, for the simple reason that it was unavoidable, and he seldom wasted time on regretting what he could not truly fix; Szayel Aporro was undeniably insane, and did hate Stark with burning passion. On hind-thought, Stark considered, he had been unfair to the narcissistic pink-haired bastard – if he would have coined anyone for turning back to Aizen without a second thought, Stark would have picked Szayel Aporro ten thousand times over. And yet, it looked as if he'd underestimated Szayel Aporro's capacity for bearing a grudge – a thoroughly positive surprise, if the grudge was against Aizen, but a very unpleasant thought, if the grudge was against the Primera himself.

But, all of that was for much later, Stark thought, with sudden resolve, and undeniable excitement; the feeling was not unexpected, though its intensity left something to wonder at.

_Yamamoto Genryusai. Captain-Commander Yamamoto Genryusai. I could almost say I've missed you, you old rat._

Aizen had never truly taken the time to explain the make-up and respective powers of the six remaining Gotei captains – the slip had been one of the first things to actually make Stark feel ascertained that God had no respect for his creations. Even if the Shinigami's powers would have been vastly inferior to those of the Espada, rushing into battle without even the most elementary assessment of the enemy's strength was a sign of pure lack of logic. And, since, lack of logic was one of the few things that Aizen could not be accused of, it could only be interpreted as criminal negligence, or as yet another test. Neither of the two sat well with the Primera, as they had not sat well with any of the Espada that actually posessed a shred of intelligence and self preservation instincts.

Grimmjow had attempted to gauge the enemy's strength the only way he knew how – by attacking them head on, and seeing who would survive; in a much subtler way, Szayel Aporro had taken advantage of the Sexta's bellicose disposition, and fitted his unfortunate sibling with enough reiatsu sensing equipment to read the capabilities of an entire army. And, in the end, Stark thought with a smirk, both of their efforts had informed him to a certain extent. Much less than the Primera would have liked, of course, but beggars could not truly be choosers.

Hitsugaya Toushirou – the child prodigy that had barely stood against Shawlong Qfang, would not be a concern. While he was undeniably strong, he did not master his Bankai to the extent that he might have; his release was as frail as Lilinette's. His red-haired vice-captain was a fitting opponent for one of Halibel's Fracciones. Perhaps Apache, Stark thought, with a little snicker. Most certainly Apache – if there was one thing the odd-eyed girl truly hated, it was an imposing chest.

Female jealousy about looks was never a factor to underestimate.

He had information about three of the others, but none of them seemed to be present. The rest were known to him solely by name – the fox-headed Shinigami, Konamura, had been Tousen's friend, for however odd and unsettling the concept. The agile looking young woman, with the odd, long braids could only be the captain of the second Division, Soi Fon – he knew nothing about her, but she did not truly concern him either.

The only two aside Yamamoto himself that seemed to be any threat with his new-found levels of reiatsu were the two men that stood slightly to the side; even in the distance, one of them looked unpleasantly familiar, though Stark could not truly place his figure. Completely white hair on such a young-looking individual was not something easily forgotten, nor was the uneasy sensation that both him and his companion were far more dangerous than they outwardly appeared. Shaking the odd foreboding that suddenly gripped him, Stark tried to focus.

'Lilinette,' he yawned. 'You can get the fat ugly guy…'

'Why do I always get the fat ugly guy?' Lilinette protested loudly, making Halibel look over her shoulder and purse her lips in disapproval. 'I want the guy wearing the pink, flowery thingy. Anyone who wears a pink flowery thingy _has _to be gay an' can't possibly be that strong.' the Fraccion declared flatly. ''Sides, he sorta looks like you, an' at the moment, you're the only one I wanna kick.'

'Eeh,' Stark sighed.

'Who do I get, Halibel-sama?' Mira Rose impatiently inquired.

'Someone clearly weaker than the one I'm getting' ', Apache responded, instead of the Espada. She drifted forward a few inches, not daring, however, to step out of Halibel's shadow; Mira Rose giggled at the hesitation, and Apache turned towards her, blushing furiously and looking very ready to give the other Fraccion a piece of her mind, as well as an example of the colorful vocabulary that had made her worthy of Grimmjow's undivided attention.

'Both of you are so childish,' Sun-Sun whispered, shaking her long, silky tresses in dismay. 'When Halibel-sama wants us to attack, she will tell us who to attack. For now, your antics are distracting.'

'O-he!' Lilinette chimed in. 'Distracting from what? Tha' staring game? Uuuh,' she said, pressing her fingers to her temples so hard that she pulled the corner of her pink eye out, 'if I look hard enough, I bet I can make the old guy burst an ane…anva…'

'_Aneurism'_, Stark prompted; his helpful intervention was rewarded with a horrible scowl.

'A head vein,' she replied, cranking her nose.

'You tell her, Lili,' Apache snickered.

'Yes, you tell me, since Apache clearly can't find her words, what with how scared she is,' Mira Rose maliciously commented.

'Yo!' Apache began, shaking her fist in Mira Rose's direction.

'Just cut it out,' Sun-Sun sighed, pressing her long, marmoreal fingers to her forehead. 'You are breaking everyone's concentration, and giving the enemy a disgraceful sight.'

Halibel nodded in stern approval, and both Mira Rose and Apache fell quiet, though they continued throwing murderous glances at each other, as well as Sun-Sun, who looked as if she was about to burst out of her skin with pride.

'Both of you demonstrate poor control over your Fracciones,' Barragan observed, slowly coming forth; an orderly group of four followed quietly. 'Poor discipline in the ranks is a tell-tale sign of a weak commander.'

'Fortunately, your opinion on the subject grows more and more irrelevant by the day, Segunda,' Halibel responded, doing no more than look over her shoulder and raise an eyebrow.

With that, she completely ignored everything that went on behind her, focusing on the assortment of Shinigami that stood but a few hundred yards off. Nothing had truly changed in her eyes, yet Stark could feel the delicate fluctuation of her reiatsu. She'd never been a wordy one, and, much like the Primera himself, she was not a show-off – her concentration powers were immense, as was her capacity of shielding herself off from all that was irrelevant, and notice the most important of details over the loudest of distractions.

Like the fact that the flavor of the reiatsu which emanated from the Shinigami group had suddenly changed, focusing and sharpening in turn. The two groups stood motionlessly facing each other for a few seconds longer, before Yamamoto himself began slowly drifting forth.

The smile on Aizen's face only grew wider. Kinder. He did not cast a single glance at his Espada or at his lieutenants – he did not need to. He probably knew that Gin was smiling in his turn.

The Captain-Commander looked over his shoulder, obviously muttering an order towards his troop, then, with slow, studied gestures, revealed his Zanpakutoh. Oddly enough, the only one who took a step back in obvious fright was Sun-Sun.

'I say, stop, drop and roll,' Stark non-directionally advised, just before waves of fire and brimstone swept over the world.

* * *

The Garganta were sealed.

The sensation, Kuchiki Byakuya thought, struggling to keep his features straight as the world briefly became deprived of air, was far more painful and physical than he had imagined. The particles of reiatsu that filled the air were suddenly polarized and pulled violently outwards, cluttering to become solid, and their absence created a painful sensation of void. In spite of his best efforts, the captain of the 6th gracefully covered his right ear, as if the delicate pressure of his fingers could force the unpleasant buzzing that resonated inside his skull to recede.

In turn, Ishida suddenly felt feint and almost lost his balance; had it not been for Renji's providential arm, he might have fallen. The Quincy looked up at the red-haired Shinigami, not knowing whether to feel insulted or thankful - Renji's almost embarrassed smile said that he expected nothing in the way of gratitude, and Ishida allowed himself to relax. This was going o be bad, the Quincy thought, relying on the Shinigami's arm far more than he would have liked. If the air was robbed of all reiatsu particles, he'd have no way to materialize his bow. He cursed under his faint breath – the last thing he wanted was to be left powerless amidst a group of Shinigami, in front of Nemu, no less…

He looked up in surprise as Unohana's hand rested on his shoulder, and the painful sensation of suffocation suddenly receded. Judging by the others' still cringing features, the storm had not passed, yet…

'I'm fine,' he managed to mutter, trying to shake the woman's fingers off his shoulder.

'I know,' she said, kindly, resolutely not allowing the Quincy to escape her soothing touch. She was the only one who gave no outer sign of weakness, Ishida noticed in surprise. Even Kenpachi looked somewhat inconvenienced, yet Unohana looked as serene as ever. 'And you will be even better soon,' she promised. In the odd bubble of peace the surrounded her, the words carried absolute truth.

Then, slowly, mercifully, the world returned to normal; though rarefied, the air was once more filled with vibrating reiatsu particles, and all could breathe at ease. Eager to distance himself from the Shinigami's support, Ishida painstakingly straightened and took a shaking step to the side.

'Grrreat!' Grimmjow exclaimed, restarting the conversation from the exact point where it had been interrupted. 'How the fuck did we not see this coming?'

'It's impossible,' Neliel Tu whispered. 'Purely impossible…'

'Nel,' Ichigo softly uttered. 'I'm really sorry, but I kept telling you there's something wrong about this guy. I mean, the way he went after Ulquiorra…'

'No, no,' she hastily refuted, furiously shaking her head. 'That is different; Stark has hated Ulquiorra for centuries, that was almost predictable, but _this…_I cannot believe it! Why would he do such a thing? Such a despicable thing…'

'I don't get it, either,' Grimmjow muttered. 'If anything, I thought it was gonna be…'

'Me?' Szayel Aporro smirked. 'Truly, Grimmjow, you should leave logical deductions to those more intellectually inclined…'

'You also thought it was going to be Grimmjow,' Ishida dryly reminded; Szayel's smirk grew menacing.

'Let's not dwell on the inconsequential,' he hissed. 'Let us focus on the deep shit we are in at present.'

Unohana nodded in accord. 'I was under the impression,' she slowly began, 'that he was the initiator of the rebellion. Why, then, would he so quickly desert it?'

'Because I forced him into a corner,' Neliel Tu said, clenching her fists. 'I forced him to trust you, by telling you of what he thought of Aizen's plans and I left him no way out, so…'

'You cannot seriously blame yourself for this, Nel,' Ichigo muttered. His words slid off her, leaving her untouched in her pointless, unfundamented guilt.

'How serious is the shift in strength?' Byakuya asked.

'Can't be all that bad,' Kenpachi offered with a shrug. 'The punk is strong, but I could have taken him in the end…Come to think of it,' he suddenly grinned, eyes lighting up in pure joy, 'this means I get to fight him again!'

'Oh no,' Szayel manically cackled. 'Nonononono! You…do…_not_…get…it!' he hyphened, emphasizing each word by tapping his index to his temple. 'There's only one thing Stark could have gotten that would have made him renounce his plans, and if he obtained that, I foresee a lot of Shinigami intestines plastered all over the human world. Bastard,' the Octava muttered under his breath. 'Selfish bastard, as usual.'

'I do not follow,' Kuchiki prompted, coldly.

'Stark's reiatsu was all but halved in his Fraccion's transformation,' Szayel explained, slowly striding forward. 'Though some of it was undoubtedly consumed, some of it must have remained within the Hougyaku. I did not think Aizen would actually be desperate enough to restore him, but it seems even I make the occasional deduction mistake.'

'What do you mean, halved?' Renji asked.

'I mean divided in two, split equally between two parts, bloody bisected!' The Octava shrieked. 'Truly, vice-captain Abarai, you lose your ability to comprehend speech at the most inopportune of moments!'

'You mean he is twice stronger, now?' Byakuya inquired; though his features remained straight, a minute trace of hesitation had fought its way into his voice. Ashamed of his lapse, Kuchiki coughed lightly.

'That's a reasonable guess,' the Octava confirmed, with a nod; he ran his fingers through his hair, without his usual grace. 'This certainly,' he added, in a low chuckle, 'makes things…interesting.'

'You're almost pleased this happened, aren't you, Szayel Aporro?' Neliel Tu unexpectedly hissed, catching the insanely gleeful undertone that all others had missed. Though he did not speak the words, the fierce expression on the Sexta's features clearly showed he shared her suspicion.

'_Me?_' Szayel Aporro sweetly inquired.

'Yeh, fucker, you,' Grimmjow snarled.

'Why would I be enjoying this?' Szayel continued to purr, approaching the two. He stopped a couple of feet in front of the other Arrancar, and gracefully propped his palm on his hip. 'Just because your _dear_, _faithful _friend Stark proved himself to be exactly what he has always been, no more than a vulgar, selfish turncoat? A war traitor?'

'It wasn't like that and you know it,' Ishida hissed.

'Oh, I take it he's shared a few Quincy war tales with you, Ishida Uryu,' the Octava chimed. 'All confidentially and within the clan?'

Byakuya's eyes narrowed; he quickly exchanged a glance with Unohana, who nodded in sign that she had not missed the reference.

'Stop gloating,' Grimmjow growled, baring a canine. 'Stop gloating, before I rip you a new one, Szayel Aporro…You know as well as I do that…' He stopped abruptly, casting a grudging glance towards Byakuya. Neliel Tu completed his thought, in a low, lost whisper.

'…that he believed the Shinigami would kill us all in the end. That they'd kill Lilinette, in the end. If he wins, Aizen would have no reason to do that. He did as he always does, put her welfare first…'

'No, Neliel Tu,' Szayel breathed, finally looking as furious as he felt. 'not this time, and not with these stakes. This time, what Stark did is inexcusable. The rest of it is just you trying to deceive yourself, and reinvent him as a better man than he ever was, just like you do with all of your men, just like you have _always _done with all of your men. And Stark has taken advantage of your disposition better than even Nnoitra did. He's always had you completely blinded, and Grimmjow here fared no better – which was to be expected, since he has one eyebrow and the brain of a bug. The sad part is that I let myself be drawn into it, although I should have known, I should have predicted that Stark only looks out for himself!'

'Lilinette…'Neliel furiously began.

'Lilinette _is_ Stark, you stubbornly thick, foolish girl!' Szayel exclaimed. 'They share a history, they are made of the same reiatsu, they are simply parts of the same indivisible whole – he cannot exist without her, thus everything he does that is so generously done for Lilinette is only, ever, done for himself. How can you still be so blind, I wonder? What self-hypnosis capacity do you possess, that makes you imagine you even came close to knowing him? You never even got _close_, Neliel Tu. Not even close,' he sneered, in vicious glee, not letting that pallor that spread over her cheeks or the stunned glances of the group stop him. 'If you imagined he cared for you even for a week, even for a day, you were abysmally wrong, as bloody usual. As bloody usual,' he let out, in a single, pained breath.

'The grim, bare, clinical reality of it is that he's had us – better yet,' Szayel hissed, 'he's had me.'

'You? You've gained your seat at the table by crawling out of the mud, Szayel Aporro. You were never even fit to lift his sword, Fraccion,' Neliel snarled.

'Now, no,' Szayel Aporro cackled. 'And certainly not when I was made – but _I,' _he breathed, making Ishida shudder at the momentous arrogance that resounded in his voice, 'am the only one among you pitiful lot who'd ever grow to threaten him. Because, unlike you and sourpuss, I began my evolution on the ultimate step; within two centuries, we would not discuss who is fit to carry whose sword; and if there's anything that Stark dislikes, it's anyone who can make him frown in his peaceful slumber. With this move, he's assured himself that no one ever will.'

'With his reiatsu restored, Stark can afford to not even care about which way Aizen's skirmish will go,' the Octava snickered. 'Absolute brilliance – absolute, utter brilliance! If it goes Aizen's way, Stark will soon swallow both Halibel and Barragan, while we, and _I_ in particular, will be dead and out of the way already. If by some miracle it will tilt for the Shinigami, there's nothing to stop him from burying himself under two hundred feet of sand and weather this storm as he's weathered all others. And then, when the Sereitei grows tired of looking for him,' Szayel continued, 'him and his untouchable little pet will be able to continue lording over Hueco Mundo, in their sexually repressed, mind-blowing mutual adoration, until the end of time. Which is exactly what he wants, Neliel Tu. For that reason, for that sole, despicable selfish reason, he has used me, and Grimmjow, and _you_ above all, drawing you into this madness despite everything that I…'

He chocked on his words and stopped.

'Despite what?' he woman breathed, in shock.

Szayel Aporro clenched his trembling hands behind his back.

'Nothing,' he said. 'Nothing of consequence.'

'Finish the sentence, Szayel Aporro,' she coldly prompted.

'It is irrelevant,' he repeated.

'You're fantasizing with your eyes open,' Neliel Tu snapped. 'Want to know what I think, Octava?' she brutally queried, taking a step forward. 'I think you're a petty, jealous little creature who still can't get people who place others above themselves. Your theories are null and void to me - Stark has never stabbed his friends in the back to advance himself; that is your preferred method of engagement…'

'You are momentously wrong, Neliel Tu,' he sweetly responded. 'To the best of my recollection, you were never my friend. You were Nnoitra's friend.'

She recoiled as if she had been slapped, but did not recant.

'I know Stark,' Neliel hissed. 'Do you get it? I know him. He would not be doing this without a reason, and that reason is that I was stupid enough to push him to his limits; if anyone's to blame for this, it's me.'

'Oh, for fuck's sake, Nellie, give it a rest', Grimmjow muttered.

'And what do you expect me to believe, huh?' she spat, turning on the Sexta. 'Do you expect me to believe that Stark did this out of a drive to rule the world? Stark, whose greatest expectation from life is a sixteen hour nap? Do you expect me to believe Szayel?'

'Does it even matter?' Ichigo sighed, kindly pressing a hand on the female Arrancar's shoulder. 'The important bit is that he did betray us and that well, maybe…' His touch made her anger recede, and she swallowed her tears. 'Maybe you didn't know him as well as you thought you did. Happens to everyone, Nel.'

'Anger and sorrow cloud the spirit,' Byakuya added, simply, and though his voice was as cold and as superior as usual, Ichigo had no doubt that in his awkward way, even Kuchiki had tried to be soothing. 'What is done is done; I…'

He breathed in, in a far more obvious way than Ichigo was used to; nonetheless Kurosaki felt grateful at the fact that Byakuya had held himself back. He'd probably been about to say he had expected the treachery, but he kindly did not.

'I am sorry for the loss of your friend, Tercera Espada Neliel Tu,' Kuchiki said instead. 'I understand his treason is painful, and perhaps he did indeed have his reasons for perpetrating it. Nonetheless, we shall have to cope with the consequences. You, of course, cannot be held accountable for other people's choice of action,' Byakuya added, simply. 'Nor will anyone hold you…'

'You think that I'm afraid you'll judge me?' the woman bitterly laughed. 'No,' she refuted, her voice trailing to a whisper. 'I understand,' she continued, 'that we will probably never know why…and that it doesn't matter now…I just can't watch _him_,' she said, her voice vibrating with hatred as she looked at Szayel Aporro, 'belittle a man he doesn't understand at all.'

'Let's not forget that it's a guy who's trying to get us all killed,' Ichigo tried, but his words were yet again wasted.

'Let's not forget that without Szayel Aporro's contribution,' Neliel Tu sneered, 'Nnoitra would never have laid a finger on me.'

'What?' Ichigo gasped, his surprise allowing Nel to drift forward and out of his reach.

'Oh, yes, indeed, Ichigo. This you didn't know.' she menacingly muttered, advancing. Szayel stood his ground, an indifferent expression on his features. 'And I'll be damned if I'll let him place Stark down on his level, simply the shriveled appendage he calls a heart can't grasp anyone who will put anyone else above themselves.'

'That's your problem, Szayel Aporro,' she concluded, shaking Ichigo's hand off her shoulder. 'That's why you'd invent no matter what rather than admit Stark did this for Lilinette. Because you have never, in your entire miserable existence, loved anyone more than you love yourself.'

The Octava bit his lower lip.

'Yes, Neliel Tu,' he distractedly uttered. 'That is, indeed my problem.'

He adjusted his glasses, and tucked his rebellious fringe behind his ear – this time, his gestures had regained their hypnotizing grace.

'So,' Szayel began, striding towards his seat. 'Where were we?' he purred, throwing a winning smile in Byakuya's direction. 'We were at the point where we stop panicking, start adjusting to circumstances and plan to fight the battles against Stark _I_ can still win.'

He paused for a moment, tilting his head to the side.

'There are others I clearly cannot.'

For reasons Ichigo could not quite grasp, Ishida and Grimmjow cringed visibly; the Octava himself looked completely serene.

Discrete and inconspicuous, the green light continued to blink at the side of the panel.

* * *

Up Next - Szayel should pick up the damned phone. No, really.


	46. Intelligent Delegation

Hello, hello :) Tonight, I am thanking you guys reading and commenting :) Your attention makes my day, every day As for Maidros, he worked very very hard as well, and he'll get an in person Thank You, tomorrow in Gothenburg.

God Bless Sweden :D

Chapter 46 - Where a lot happens, and Yachiru does a great job of being the Project Manager. No, really.

* * *

'So,' Szayel Aporro sighed, in obvious despair. 'Allow me to reiterate what I have heard, for it is seldom that I run across such sheer stupidity and masterful ill-planning. The occasion should be celebrated with a little dance.'

Byakuya's chin jerked upwards.

'You _truly_ have no means of opening a Senkai gate from this side.'

Kuchiki nodded.

'Nor do you have any means of communication that would notify the Sereitei to open a Senkai gate from the other side.'

'Indeed, it is so,' Kuchiki nodded again.

Szayel Aporro rolled his eyes.

'Then, pardon my asking, exactly _how _are you useful to me?'

'Think you're missing the point, dude,' Grimmjow remarked. 'If they decided to stay, they didn't need no Senkai gate opening device…thing.'

'…opening device…thing…'Szayel Aporro echoed, eyes widened in utter shock and disgust. 'Your eloquence crushes my spirit.'

'It also makes his head spin,' Ishida non-directionally remarked. Nonetheless, and in spite of the fact that he was sitting in Szayel's chair and across the room from her, he elicited a small twinge of a smile from Nemu, and could not suppress a triumphant smile of his own.

'Heee, Pinky-san,' Yachiru shrugged; she prompted Kenpachi to advance by swinging her heels against his shoulder. 'Plenty of stuff to do here, too, you know, lots of things for Ken-chan to kill. What's the hurry of getting away?'

'I truly doubt Szayel Aporro Grantz is eager for a way into Sereitei,' Isane softly said. Unohana encouraged her with a nod, and she continued. 'I am sure he is simply unhappy with the lack of back-up plans.'

'Oh, not all of you were dropped on your heads in their childhood,' the Octava muttered. 'How refreshing! I am not at all eager to leave Hueco Mundo – I have grown to like the place, and think of it as home.' He said, with a feral smirk. 'However, I would like the option of doing so at the moment of my choosing, and not sitting around waiting for Aizen's return while playing…' he considered the options for a moment, then carelessly waved his fingers. '…_schnapsen_.'

'Playing what?' Renji's eyes grew wide.

'Sechsundsechzig, known as Schnapsen in Austria.' Nemu said, softly, her voice carrying the odd echo of her glass cell, but no trace of emotion. 'A German card game employing a 20 card suite, for two to four players; it may be played individually or in teams of two.'

All turned around, with varying degrees of confusion and fright depicted on their features; not understanding the cause of their amazement, Nemu blinked twice.

'Do you require that I explain the rules and tactics of the game?' she asked.

'Eeh,' Isane murmured. Despite her best effort, there had been a trace of relief in her voice – it was precisely like the Nemu she knew and liked to offer to be helpful whenever she had the capability, even though the matter at hand was completely inconsequential. 'No, Nemu-san, that's not needed right now…'

The vice-captain of the fourth cast a questioning frown at Szayel Aporro, who shrugged in return.

'I must say…' Unohana began, thoughtfully, the stopped and smiled resplendently in Szayel Aporro's direction. 'I think much better when I'm sitting down.'

'If you please, Quincy…' The Octava muttered, gracefully waving his fingers – with deft gestures and remarkable speed and precision, Ishida clicked a few buttons and made the paper cup seat slide across the floor towards the captain of the fourth division. Ichigo arched a displeased eyebrow, obviously finding his friend's familiarity with the panels before him quite disturbing. Ishida paid him no heed.

'Thank you,' Unohana beamed, taking the seat after passing her Zanpakutoh to Isane. 'Correct me if I am wrong,' she once more began, smiling kindly. 'The more powerful Espada should now be in the real world, and above Karakura Town.'

'One might assume so, yes,' Szayel Aporro carefully confirmed. 'Dare I hope that there is someone to meet and greet them?'

'I think it is now safe to confirm that assumption,' Kuchiki nodded.

'An' not a fucking moment too late,' Grimmjow snarled, from the side. Byakuya emitted a deep, pained sigh, and shook his head in momentous, royal disapproval of the Sexta's language.

'If the more powerful among the Espada are now in the human world,' Unohana continued, 'that means the back of the lines is less than well guarded. This presents us with a wonderful opportunity, and I hope we shall not be shy in taking advantage of it.'

'So we're _finally_ gonna go get Orihime!' Ichigo triumphantly exclaimed.

'Seems like a good idea at this point,' Unohana shrugged, making Kenpachi rub his hands with glee and anticipation. 'We know where she is, and we know that she cannot possibly be too well guarded, so it is the perfect time…'

'I've gotta say,' Grimmjow remarked, scratching his head, 'y'all are dumb as heck.'

The pronouncement was followed by an eerie, deep silence.

'An' that includes you, Szayel Aporro, in case you were doubting,' the Sexta snickered. Lumina and Verona shrieked in unison.

Visibly pleased with the reaction, Grimmjow strode to the middle of the group, glancing about with an expression of superiority that Szayel Aporro himself would have found hard to master.

'No?' he prompted. 'None of y'all thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?'

'Probably not. And I am assured most of us are thankful for _that_ on every second of every minute of every day,' Szayel mumbled; despite the words, his stare seemed even more focused than usual. It was amusing, Ishida thought, though he could not intuit what Grimmjow was refrerring to either – when he was thinking intently, Szayel Aporro looked as if lines of code had been drifting behind his eyes.

'What is it, Grimmjow?' Ichigo mumbled. 'You ate the smart fruit all of a sudden?'

'Dude,' the Sexta laughed, 'your focus on large boobs is making you miss the obvious…'

'Watch it!' Ichigo muttered, eyeing him menacingly. 'And don't mention Inoue's…'

'Boobs?' Grimmjow offered, with a wide, helpful grin.

'I sense my intelligence quotient is dropping by the minute,' Szayel whimpered. Understanding his plight, Byakuya nodded resolutely and stepped up between the Sexta and Kurosaki. Yet, it was Unohana who spoke.

'I will freely admit that I cannot guess what you are referring to, Grimmjow Jaggerjaques,' she said, in a serene voice. 'I consider retrieving Inoue Orihime a priority because I am certain our enemies do not share our travel woes; I would like to get her before the battle in the human world escalates, and Aizen can employ her to refresh his troop. I cannot think of anything else at the time being, and you are not being overly helpful in prompting my stream of thought in the correct direction.'

'What she's saying is - spill it,' Renji muttered, losing his patience. 'If you've got a better idea…'

'It's fucking obvious,' Grimmjow sighed. 'With Aizen gone, there's other stuff than Inoue Orihime left behind unguarded.'

'Like, for instance?' Renji prompted again.

'The Hougyaku, you bloody idiots,' the Sexta snickered. 'The Hougyaku.'

'Heee!' Szayel Aporro uttered, in a piercing snicker; he looked thoroughly relieved, though all others exchanged glances which clearly showed they thought Grimmjow was right. 'I should have expected this; when you announce you are about to utter something stupid, you unfailingly do so. It's only logical, then, that when you announce you are going to say something intelligent, you effectively say something enormously stupid instead.'

'It is actually a very correct observation,' Byakuya patiently answered.

'Ooof course,' Szayel purred. 'Because Aizen would leave the Hougyaku behind for us to take.'

'Do you reckon he took it with him?' Kenpachi shrugged. 'Never saw the thing, but I'm sure it's not comfortable to carry around…'

'Can you imagine if he got attacked?' Yachiru giggled. 'And he had to, like, pass it?'

'To _Tousen_?' Renji suddenly sniggered. 'Catch fast…Doh, you're blind!'

'By the paths of truth and justice, Aizen-sama,' Isane proclaimed, doing a masterful imitation of Tousen's pompous regular tone, 'I dropped it!'

'No,' Unohana said, in a serious tone. 'That is not what Kaname Tousen would say.'

She coughed lightly to adjust her voice; for a moment, all three vice-captains looked chastised. However, just Byakuya had spun towards her to thank her for interrupting the insanity, Unohana spoke up, in a deep, ostentatious tone.

'He'd say: By the _unbending _paths of truth and justice, Aizen-sama, I cannot engage in merry frolics and disorderly ball games. Please, if you require for the Hougyaku to be caught and held in the name of peace, toss it to Gin.'

Byakuya gawked in an unforgivably obvious manner.

'That's so true, Ren-chan!' Yachiru exclaimed, bending over with laughter and knocking her fist into Kenpachi's shoulder. The captain of the 4th squad blushed happily and nodded, obviously pleased with the compliment. 'Nah,' she reiterated, 'he wouldn't take it with him. It would be dumb.'

'As opposed to leaving it here, in Yammy's care,' Szayel Aporro sighed. He frowned and looked around, seeking support for what he considered blindingly obvious. There was none to be found, and his expression turned distraught. 'You people are not _seriously _considering he left the Hougyaku behind! Let alone the fact that Grimmjow said it should make you realize…'

'I think the fact that Grimmjow said it gives you, like, a mental block…thing,' Ichigo shrugged, waving his fingers two inches in front of his eyes, for a better illustration of his words.

The Octava huffed in injured pride, and crossed his arms over his chest.

'Fine. Believe Grimmjow. See if I care.'

'You're not being childish enough, Octava Espada,' Renji grinned. 'You need to up it a notch and say you're gonna pick up your toys and go play in the other sandbox…'

Szayel Aporro blushed furiously, but produced no retort, in sign that Renji's words had struck home.

'I am simply waiting to hear a pertinent proposal,' he answered, in a still trembling voice.

'If we all ready to _focus,' _Byakuya said, in a mechanically measured tone, 'I am ascertained we could think of one.' He cast a scalding glance at Renji, who blushed and immediately stopped enjoying his small triumph over Szayel Aporro. The captain of the 6th then directed his stare at Unohana, failing to achieve the same result. The woman continued to smile shyly, and gave him a tiny, mischievous shrug to prompt him to continue. 'If we all agree that the more powerful Arrancar are indeed in the human world, there is no reason why we could not go and attempt to retrieve both Inoue Orihime and the Hougyaku without wasting time. There should be no force left within these walls that could justify all nine of us acting together. We can, I surmise, part ways.'

'I'm going where there's stuff to kill,' Kenpachi announced, in a voice that admitted no contradiction.

'I doubt that aspect of it will be a problem,' Szayel Aporro sighed again. 'There should be a battalion of Exequias between us and virtually anywhere in Las Noches.'

'But they're weak, aren't they?' Ichigo muttered.

'Yeh, dude, they are,' Grimmjow answered, 'but there's like fucking thousands of them. You'd die of boredom before you're done…'

'What would he guard more?' Unohana asked. 'Inoue Orihime, or the Hougyaku?'

'He has all but provoked us to go after Inoue,' Byakuya answered. 'I would assume that is where he wants us to go. She should, therefore, be surrounded by more defenses.'

'That is logical,' Szayel Aporro thoughtfully nodded, drifting towards his screens and bending over Ishida's shoulders to begin flicking through corridor maps. 'And, to the extent of my knowledge, the Hougyaku chamber is heavily trapped. He would not cram it full of Exequias – they are so hopelessly foolish that they would trigger everything in the room and kill themselves.'

'What manner of traps are there?' Byakuya inquired.

'Deadly ones,' Szayel Aporro dryly shot back. 'To read, I have no idea. I was never allowed in the Hougayku's vicinity.'

'Yeh, wonder why, since you're such a trustworthy guy,' Grimmjow snickered; the Octava ignored him.

'Quincy,' he snapped, 'you are in my seat.'

Ishida looked up, arching an eyebrow, but stood with pointed, slow gestures.

'By all means, Szayel Aporro,' he said, gesturing towards the chair; they stared at each other for a second, then adjusted their glasses in perfect synchronicity. 'Can you disable the traps remotely?' Ishida asked, leaning over the Octava's shoulder.

'Not really,' the pink-haired Arrancar responded, too preoccupied with the screen to scold Ishida for standing behind him. 'The most I can do from here is realign the corridors so we have a relatively easy way in and confuse the Exequias.'

He impatiently tapped his foot.

'Hm,' Szayel Aporro said. 'But I am ascertained I could do it from the main control chamber – I am reasonably familiar with Gin's machinery, since, need I remind you, he stole most of it from _me…'_

'You keep mentioning that aspect, yes,' Byakuya answered, in royal boredom.

'Could you not also re-enable the Garganta from the main control chamber?' Ishida asked.

'And while I am at it,' Szayel continued, addressing mostly himself, and choosing to ignore the fact that the Quincy had said the exact same thing he intended to say, 'since disabling the traps in a doubtlessly _empty_ room will prove a pointless endeavor, I might as well take the opportunity to disable the cross-world travel impeding device…Since, of course, no one but me seems to value a good retreat plan. Even though I am sure it is a reiatsu powered machine, I am sure that a few well placed additional superconductors could…'

'You're talking in tongues,' Grimmjow sneered.

'Yeah,' Ichigo hurriedly agreed. 'So, let's go!'

'I find your haste distressing,' Kuchiki interrupted. 'We should put some thorough thought into the members of the two squads.'

'Three squads,' Szayel Aporro contradicted. 'Someone needs to stay back here and coordinate…'

'And you're just about ready to volunteer for the job. You really can't fight without your bag o'tricks, can ya?' Renji chided; the Octava's shoulders suddenly straightened and his fists clenched. It took a few obviously controlled breaths for Szayel Aporro to still his temper – when he turned and stood, his features bore the most serene and sweet of smiles; nonetheless, Renji instinctively drew back when the Arrancar slowly and gracefully approached him.

'No, vice-captain Abarai,' Szayel Aporro sensuously whispered. 'Since you have impressed me with your mental power, I will leave my laboratory to _you_. I wonder…Would you even be able to press the on-off switch, if I pointed it out to you, and labeled it with big, red letters? Sadly,' the Octava continued, adjusting his glasses, 'I will be obliged to leave, albeit briefly - no one but myself can make sense of the control chamber.'

'It doesn't look that hard to make teams,' Yachiru said, pursing her lips. 'Here!' she exclaimed, jumping off Kenpachi's shoulder at amazing speed. 'I'll fix it. One smart person and one strong person per team. Ichi-kun and Bya-kun…You gotta stand together when I arrange you,' she chided. The two did not react; she frowned, then, as neither would step closer to the other, she took matters in her own hands.

She grabbed Ichigo, effectively sweeping him off his feet and lifting him into the air, only to employ her Shumpo and ungraciously drop him by Byakuya's side.

'Ow,' Ichigo protested, his voice faint with surprise. Yachiru was already onto her next target.

'Then, someone who knows the way,' she said. 'Kitty-san, you're with them!'

'Me? With Kurosaki? You gotta be fucking kidding me…' Grimmjow protested.

'I…,' Yachiru snapped, '…said…' A storm of reiatsu rose all about her, drowning the chamber in furious and burning pink light; surprised by the tremendous spiritual pressure that seemed to have risen from nowhere, the Sexta retreated a step.

'Don't contradict Yachiru,' Kenpachi wisely advised. Much in spite of himself, Grimmjow swallowed dry and nodded sheepishly.

'…you're with them!' the little girl finished, in a low snarl. Not waiting for another prompt, Grimmjow took a wide stride towards Ichigo. 'Good,' Yachiru giggled, nodding happily. Her threatening pink aura vanished as quickly as it had appeared. 'That's one team. Isane-chan, go with them, to defend them till they get Orihime.'

Isane conceded, smiling in turn.

'Now for team two…Ren-chan,' the little girl continued, taking Unohana's hand. The captain of the fourth yielded easily to Yachiru's minute pull, and stood; satisfied, the vice captain of the 11th squad let go of the woman's fingers, and within a flash, began tugging at Szayel Aporro's uniform, dragging him along in spite of his best efforts. 'You get Pinky-san.'

'Let go of me, Herpes Simplex, I can walk on my own.' The Octava muttered.

'…and then Ken-chan, and we're done!' Yachiru triumphantly concluded, regaining her seat on her captain's shoulder. 'Pencil-kun seems like he's good with buttons and stuff, so he and Nel-chan can stay here and look over us,' she giggled, making Ishida whimper helplessly at the nickname.

For the first time, Neliel Tu looked up, and nodded without enthusiasm – for the entirety of the encounter, she had sat in a corner, head on her folded arms and uttered no sound. A mere glance at her pained features made Szayel Aporro swallow dry and nervously look away; Grimmjow did not miss the gesture, and cranked his nose in disgust.

'See, that wasn't hard at all.' Yachiru triumphantly concluded.

For an instant, the two groups measured each other in deep silence; the tension between Byakuya and Grimmjow was almost tangible. In the opposite team, Szayel Aporro and Kenpachi exchanged a glance that was filled with absolute mutual dread.

'Eh, Yachiru,' Kenpachi began. 'This ain't right…I don't like him,' he added, in a low, complicit whisper, trying to discretely point at Szayel Aporro. 'He gives me the creeps.'

'I am not bursting with delight at your presence either,' Szayel returned, with a smirk. 'The main control chamber is not freight train proof. You'll wreck havoc and destruction the very second you enter it.'

'Hm,' Kenpachi muttered. Then, he grinned wide. 'Captain Kuchiki, if I may request a favor,' he said, in an unusually courteous tone, that made Ichigo's jaw drop. 'Would you have any major objections to a place exchange?'

'By all means, captain Kenpachi, of course not,' Byakuya responded, without missing a beat. Both vanished to reappear in the exact place where the other had stood before Yachiru could utter a single protest.

'_Now _can we go?' Ichigo whined, shirking visibly under Kenpachi's predatory stare.

'Before anyone else has time to change their mind,' Grimmjow sneered in accord.

'Waaait,' Szayel Aporro shrieked, suddenly jumping to the side, and prompting all to sigh in despair. 'No one is going anywhere without communication devices. Unless you all plan to communicate by smoke signals.'

'Judging by your pitch and vibrato, Octava Espada Szayel Aporro Granz,' Byakuya said, gracefully massaging his ear, 'shouting be a quite feasible option.'

'Your voice is music to my ears as well, Captain Kuchiki,' Szayel purred. 'Lumina,' he needlessly prompted. The Fraccion had already stood to attention, and fearfully approached the group. Grimmjow snatched the white delicate bone-white device out of its hand, and placed it in his ear.

'Hope this doesn't eat my brain,' he muttered.

'No worries, no worries,' Szayel light heartedly giggled. 'This is the sound transmitter model that has no brain-eating functions whatsoever. Besides, in your case, such functions would be pointless a priori.'

'Har, har,' Grimmjow humorlessly spat.

'So, how does the thing work?' Ichigo asked, twisting his own earphone on all sides, with utter mistrust. 'Do we all hear each other all the time, or…'

'Nonononono,' the Octava whimpered, 'mercifully not – whatever you and Grimmjow have to share with each other will blissfully remain…_intimate,'_ he purred, grinning with satisfaction at his own word choices, and at the fact that both Ichigo and Grimmjow smirked in disgust. 'When you feel like there is something worthy of being said to the larger group, all you have to do is tap the small button on the side. I must ask you to refrain from testing this _here_ and _now, _however, because…'

'This button?' Kenpachi curiously inquired, not tapping, but outright pressing his thumb on the earphone. A long, painfully high pitched electronic screech erupted from all the loudspeakers embedded in the walls, causing all but himself and Unohana to bend over and even fall to their knees. In the back of the laboratory, glass shattered and liquids spilled. 'Sorry,' Kenpachi innocently shrugged.

'…because it will cause high-frequency resonance with all of the other microphones and amplification devices,' Nemu dryly concluded, in Szayel's turn.

'He's not getting one,' The Octava pitifully squealed. Obedient, Lumina approached and snatched the earphone out of Kenpachi's hand. For a moment, Zaraki Kenpachi looked childishly disappointed. 'Now,' Szayel painstakingly said, 'begone! Go damage someone else's tower!'

'Finally!' Ichigo exclaimed, darting towards the door. He stopped in the doorframe however, and looked over his shoulder. The Sexta voiced the question in his turn.

'What are y'all gonna do?' Grimmjow inquired.

'I'll need a few minutes to realign the corridors,' Szayel explained, on the verge of losing his patience. 'I trust you won't get lost…'

'Of course not,' Kenpachi shrugged.

'I'm here,' Yachiru confirmed.

Ichigo slapped his forehead.

'Oh, an' dude?' Grimmjow said.

Szayel Aporro turned away from the panels and sighed.

'What now?'

'If that fucking light's still blinkin' on your keyboard when I get back, I'll put it out with your forehead. Just a friendly warning.'

With that, he vanished into the corridor, with Ichigo on his trail.

'Hm,' Szayel said, finally taking notice of the small LED. The sudden focus in his stare, as well as the quickly dispersed shadow of a frown that passed over his features did not escape Ishida.

'What is that, Szayel Aporro?' the Quincy asked.

'Nothing,' the Octava answered; his left eyebrow twitched as he hastily clicked the side of the panel. The light died. 'Absolutely nothing.'

It was Ishida's turn to frown.

* * *

Up next - There will be no black briars and brambles.


	47. Absent Friends

Hello, hello! And thank you for reading and commenting :D And thank you, Maidros for putting up with my Shunsui habits :)

Tonight, Szayel Aporro puts my engineering degree to good use, so warnings:

Warning: Language and major science alert. (well, minor science alert, but, who am I to judge?)

Chapter 47 - Where Szayel Aporro discovers the beauty of unsolicited phone calls.

* * *

'Ahem,' Szayel Aporro coughed lightly, bending over so that the sound could be caught by the microphones embedded in his keyboard. 'Grimmjow!'

'Yeh, dude, what!' the Sexta's voice boomed out of the amplifiers, in perfectly lifelike sound.

'The entire point of realigning the corridors was that you go _around_ the Exequias,' Szayel sighed, managing to look so aggrieved that Ishida actually wondered if he'd squeeze out a tear or two.

'Yeh, so?' came Grimmjow's curt reply.

'You're heading straight into them, you clown!' the Octava screamed – there were hissing noises from the other side, which demonstrated that Grimmjow has hastily yanked the transmitter out of his ear. Amid the static, there was distant, cut off cursing, and the echo a very young voice triumphantly exclaiming something that sounded like _Told you it was this way – _all quickly being drowned by rolling, manic cackles.

Byakuya sighed.

'There is wisdom in accepting that which you cannot change,' Unohana gently advised, then shrugged. 'How many Exequias will they encounter?'

'Some fifty,' Szayel muttered, narrowing his eyes in an attempt to counting the multitude of red, menacing dots that swirled on the screen before him.

'Sixty two,' Ishida corrected from behind.

'I give up,' the Octava answered, raising his palms in surrender. 'The Gods themselves fight stupidity in vain. Leave your transmitters on so I know where to retrieve your sorry carcasses from, for dissection purposes,' he dryly spoke towards the keyboard. 'I am sure at least one of you for will further science by eons by demonstrating life is indeed possible in the complete absence of superior cognitive functions.'

'Fuck off!' came the curt reply, then the room was mercifully silent.

'I believe that in common human speech, that means they are not in need of our assistance,' Kuchiki said, arching an eyebrow.

'I believe you are correct,' Szayel Aporro responded, standing up. 'All yours, Quincy,' he said, ceremoniously and gracefully extending his fingers towards the panels. As soon as Ishida had occupied the seat, however, the Octava leaned over and deftly collected two out of the four vials that glowed faintly on the leftmost corner of the keyboard. 'It is not that I do not trust you, Ishida Uryu,' he snickered, when the archer spun around, ready to protest 'but I really don't trust you,' he ended, grinning wide.

'Oh, you're soooo adorable when you pout!' Szayel purred as Ishida's frown deepened. 'But you really have no need for these – the corridors that lead to the main control chamber are clear and straight, and there is no point in allowing you to control the reiatsu suppressors, since you have no idea how to use them.'

'I could learn,' Ishida muttered.

'How sweet of you to offer! Of course _not,' _Szayel viciously snapped in return. 'Now then,' he continued, gracefully spinning around, 'please allow me five minutes to…'

'…change your clothes…' Ishida and Renji sighed in unison.

'Indeed so,' the Octava nodded. 'I am not one to keep a lady waiting,' he purred, taking a short and very courteous bow in Unohana's direction, 'so I shall be back briefly.'

He vanished to Sonido, allowing no time for a response.

'What is it with this guy and his bloody clothes?' Renji exclaimed, in exasperation.

'There is nothing wrong with desiring a clean outfit,' Byakuya shrugged, though his voice had carried a questioning undertone. 'It is good to note that he is keen on personal hygiene.'

'If anything,' Neliel said softly, 'Szayel Aporro Granz is a coward. He should be trembling and whimpering, but he is not.'

'Yeah,' Renji agreed. 'He should be as nervous, maybe more nervous than any of us, but…'

Lost in his own thoughts, and carefully looking at the small LED, Ishida nodded.

'He isn't,' the archer approved.

'It's like he has something up his…, erm, sleeve…Apologies, Captain Kuchiki…' Renji muttered, immediately noticing his captain's reproachful glance, 'that we don't know about. He acted exactly like this before he revealed his resurrection.'

'Do you think Aizen got to him as well?' Kuchiki inquired, frowning with mild concern.

'No, it is not that,' Unohana responded, shaking her head. 'His earlier anger outburst was genuine. There's something else he is unwilling to share.'

'If it is something confidence inducing, that is not related to Aizen, would it be unwise to assume it may benefit us as well?' Byakuya asked thoughtfully.

'Or he's just posturing,' Renji sneered. 'He's good at that.'

'In any event,' Byakuya answered, silently seeking Unohana's approval, 'I've pushed the Second among the Espada to the limits of his discomfort, and it did not prove intelligent. I suggest that in this case, we let him keep whatever makes him feel safe without encroaching. One does not always have to crush other people's sand castles.'

Unohana smiled and nodded.

In his turn, Ishida felt the almost irrepressible urge of uttering a questioning and very familiar 'Hm.'. He swallowed the sound, feeling as if he had swallowed a rather large pebble.

* * *

The power up time of the miniature control panel had never seen so painfully long; sighing with impatience, and tapping his fingers on the side of his dressing table, Szayel Aporro swore to himself that at the end of it all, he would quadruple the number of memory chips in the machine, so he would never truly have to turn it off.

When the screen had finally blinked back to life, the Octava had leaned in, a look of feral anticipation on his features. He brought up the list of sensor readings, nodding in approval of the fact that no other machines seemed to have been damaged – they remained just as he remembered them last: one in the third tower, one in the second, two in the first. The lights of the first tower sensors blinked twice as fast as the others.

First tower sensors.

'Hm,' Szayel muttered, forcing the impatience out of his body by stretching his fingers, and finally bringing himself to sit down. He selected the sensor line and enlarged it to full-screen it with fast, practiced gestures – he did not expect to see much, or at least, nothing _unpredictable._ Stark's new power levels must have triggered some threshold in the machines, which had been calibrated to pick up and analyze Barragan's energy. There were a few data validation sections in the code, inserted to make sure the sensors did not read anything that was not significant; god forbid any of Charlotte Coolhorn's variables trickled in and tainted the model, which was all but complete. Stark's new levels were certainly above that threshold, and his pattern was significantly different from Barragan's – it was therefore normal and very expected that the program would react by trying to resolve the conflict and giving him a long list of inconsistencies between the old and new variables.

But that was not the case.

Instead of a long list of parameter type mismatches he expected, there were only a few, and though the reiatsu that had triggered the sensors was significantly stronger than that of any of Barragan's Fracciones, it was not enough to cause inconsistencies in all of the model. Szayel nodded briefly, as if conceding that his first guess had not been accurate, and dismissed the model, instead bringing up the raw data input – that, he recognized in a heartbeat.

'Hm,' he said.

Lilinette's spiritual energy had never been overly stable; it always came in extremely powerful bursts, followed by pitiful slumps. She seemed to have progressed a lot in the past few days however – the reading before him maintained a high, constant level throughout. And was marred by a strangely periodic noise, Szayel Aporro noticed, enlarging the reading so he could observe it in detail. The tiny variations above and below the main frequency were clear, perfectly identical, and repeated three times, as if to assure him it was not an accident. They also looked completely different than spiritual energy vibrations which tended to be perfectly stationary, this one was…

_Voice signal. It's voice signal._

He frowned, unconsciously feeling for his pencil across the dressing table. He'd never actually installed any microphones in any of his sensors – he had not thought it necessary, as he had little curiosity for what the other Espada actually said to each other.

_Wasting precious time and brainpower on inane chatter is inadmissible. Although, under the circumstances…_

'Never mind, never mind,' he scolded himself, in a whisper. He flexed his fingers and begin typing – it was simple question of separating the main frequency from the noise, then simply processing the noise and reconstructing what had been said. The process took slightly over three minutes, he mentally calculated, giving himself another five before the Shinigami he'd left behind would become nervous. He turned the volume to the barest audible level.

'Ariadne's thread,' the machine uttered, in an odd, mechanical rendition of Lilinette's chimes. 'Ariadne's thread!' it repeated, in a slightly more nervous tone. 'I hope whoever's listening to this knows what the fuck I'm talking about! Ariadne's thread!' There was a dry click, and the playback ended.

Szayel slumped back, forgetting that the stool of his dressing table had no back rest and almost losing his balance.

'Well now,' he muttered, in complete dismay. 'This…hm.'

He did, indeed, know what she was talking about – he understood it within a second of hearing the message.

_Ariadne's thread. The thread of the treacherous daughter, who sold her cruel father's secrets to the wandering hero. The thread the hero followed through to the center of the Labyrinth, to slay the Minotaur._

Stark, not Lilinette, had said – Follow my lead, find the center, and slay the monster.

There were, of course, some given ambiguities – like, for instance, where the center of the Labyrinth actually was; to Szayel, the center of the Labyrinth could only have been the main control chamber, yet, the Octava knew, it was a question of personal interpretation. The center might well have been the Hougyaku room, the throne room, or perhaps the first tower, given that that had been the point of transmission…

Yet, Szayel thought, reigning his mind in, that was not the _point_, or at least not for now. The point was that Neliel Tu and the little Quincy had ironically been right, and that Stark still intended to follow through with his rebellion against God. On his own terms, as usual. The lengths to which Stark would go to to be in control of his environment were always amazing, the Octava thought, furiously biting his lower lip. Far be it from him to adapt to circumstances, like everyone else, no, he created his own circumstances, and the others perpetually had to follow – he'd planned to jump Aizen from behind, and no changes in the nature of the Universe would make him alter his own plan. And it was, of course, bloody _perfect_ – with his newly found reiatsu levels, Stark would have no trouble doing away with Halibel or Barragan unscathed, if the two did not expect an attack. He'd done extremely well, and his stunt would make him more of an asset to those opposing Aizen than he could ever have been by remaining completely loyal.

Even the nature of the message and the way in which it had been transmitted were perfect; Stark had clearly intended his glorious little line at Szayel Aporro, and Szayel Aporro alone. He was the only one amid the lot with a solid enough classical education, and crucially, he was the one that trusted Stark least, with the exception of the Shinigami. Had the message been directed at Grimmjow or Neliel, the Octava would never have trusted it reflected Stark's genuine intentions. That was why the Primera had not wasted his time on them and placed his trust with the only one person he truly needed to convince; he had not been wrong in doing so. Szayel Aporro had immediately believed him, without a minor trace of doubt. Flawlessly thought, flawlessly executed.

'You've picked a good time to be something else than your treacherous self, Stark,' Szayel Aporro muttered. 'A perfectly good time.'

_But too much perfection going around is never a good thing._

The Octava navigated out of the sound processor interface, returning to the sensor readings screen. Then, without haste, and clicking the keys distinctly, as if he had been playing the most masterful of symphonies, deleted the message queue for the first tower sensors.

_More than one way to skin a Hollowfied Quincy._

Another thing that Szayel Aporro had learned from his dear older sibling was that one always opened the door to the knocks of opportunity. It was not a question of pure, childish jealousy, or at least, not completely, Szayel Aporro told himself, feeling immediately satisfied with the thought and not pursuing it further. He'd never truly felt jealousy towards any of Neliel's passing paramours, though few of them had been so tremendously callous towards her, or so shamelessly attempted to use her. In the end of all things, he did not even envy them, for none of them had gotten to keep her. It was not only about Neliel.

It was a logical question of ridding himself of a powerful and open future foe.

If all things went according to plan, and if indeed the Shinigami did not clean Hueco Mundo in the wake of their victory over Aizen, Szayel Aporro had no doubts that himself and Stark would eventually clash. Neither of them was particularly adept at sharing power, and neither, Szayel knew, in spite of Stark's lazy and infuriating self assurance, was confident enough to coexist with the other.

Though Stark had now truly and finally reached the limits of his evolution, the notion was not comforting. Szayel Aporro knew he could and would still evolve, but he could not predict how much. It was probably wise to assume that in terms of sheer strength, the gap in their powers would remain tremendous and would not be bridged by intelligence alone. Stark would react as soon as he suspected his wide comfort boundary was encroached upon; he seldom gave foes any openings and had never truly allowed anyone to become life-threatening.

But this, the Octava thought, with a little smile, was the mother of all openings. There would be none like it in the future. And, as forsaken opportunities had an annoying tendency of avenging themselves, he would not let it pass.

Szayel Aporro knew he was not able to kill Stark on his own – not for the next three centuries. Perhaps never. But the Shinigami could. And, given but a little more time, they would, without hesitation, and with just a little trace of help from the Octava. He'd grant it, of course, Szayel thought, his delicate frame shaking with the chuckles he struggled to contain. Because he was a thoroughly _helpful _nature, always looking to assist his peers in the best way he knew how.

Szayel Aporro laughed out loud; he found his inner sense of humor absolutely irresistible.

* * *

The joy that Loly and Menoly had felt at the thought of being left alone with the object of their burning hatred was unexpectedly short lived.

The two Fracciones had barely stepped into the main hall of the fifth tower, cruel smiles on their faces, when they had realized that something was amiss, and that, in fact, they were not lucky enough to be alone with Orihime.

'Beat it,' Yammy had said, making them both freeze in their tracks.

Loly had opened her mouth, ready to produce a cheeky reply – Yammy was, after all, only the lowest of the Espada, and he had no authority to command them. Besides, the whispered rumors around Las Noches hinted at the fact that he had lost his Zanpakutoh, or at least his capability of achieving his resurrection in an encounter with Grimmjow. This latter part Loly and Menoly did not believe. Both of them knew from their own experience that Grimmjow did not leave defeated enemies alive.

'Beat it,' Yammy had repeated, this time looking in their direction – and then, something had, indeed changed. Both of them had seen Yammy angry, and both of them agreed that while frighteningly strong, the Decima's outbursts were normally short lived and so unfocused that they did little else but deal serious damage to the building or some unfortunate Exequias that got in the way. He normally calmed down long before he could do any serious harm to anyone of any importance…But that, Loly had thought, swallowing dry as the giant Arrancar stood and headed towards her, had always been because Ulquiorra kept his dim-witted former Fraccion well in hand, as well he should have.

Except, Loly had suddenly reminded herself, Ulquiorra was gone. And, probably just because of that, Yammy looked more furious than ever. Still, uneager to be so easily faced down, Loly had willed herself forward.

'Aizen-sama doesn't care what happens to her,' she had said, in a tone that carried cutting certainty.

'Aizen-sama left her in my guard,' Yammy had answered; behind him, Orihime had clenched her hands to her chest.

'So, what more proof that he doesn't care do you need?' Menoly had finally intervened – she had truly spoken too fast, or maybe, just maybe, the two sisters had thought to themselves as Yammy had picked them up by their throats and slammed them against each other, the rumors had been untrue, and Yammy's powers had not faded at all.

'Aizen-sama…'Loly had shrieked, but had little time to finish the threat. Yammy's fist closed around her neck, cutting her breath.

'Aizen-sama's going to be gone for a while,_' _the Decima had grunted – with a wide swipe of his enormous arm, he had flung Loly against the wall, almost causing her to lose consciousness. She had stood, furious, pained and completely out of breath, but her gesture had proved too fast for her own good. Menoly had been hurled in a similar fashion, crushing her sister between the unyielding rock and her own momentum.

'What the hell, Yammy!' the blonde Fraccion had shrieked, darting to her feet, and barely missing stepping on Loly's fingers as she stood. 'What's wrong with you? Aizen-sama really doesn't care what happens to her, he even told her friends where to find her! You don't really think he wants them to have her back!'

'I don't think a whole lot.' Yammy responded dryly. He sat down heavily, causing the stone beneath him to crack. 'I know that I was told to stay here and guard Inoue Orihime from everybody, so I'm going to sit here and guard Inoue Orihime from everybody, until Aizen-sama tells me to do something else. _Comprenden_?'

'You're retarded,' Loly had grunted. 'He's going to kill her in the end, anyway – what's wrong with letting us cut her down to size a little…'

'Beat it,' the Decima had repeated, blankly.

'What is wrong with you?' Menoly had tried again. 'Don't you understand that she got Ulquiorra killed? That it was her fault? If you don't have the guts to take it out of her, Yammy, then you should let us…'

The giant had slowly spun around, and looked at Orihime with his beady, expressionless eyes for what had felt like an eternity. The human girl had said nothing – she'd simply clutched her hands tighter, the tension in her fingers reflecting the painful tension in her lower jaw. Then, with equal lack of rush, he'd faced Aizen's Fracciones.

'_Amigas_,' he'd begun, slowly, crossing his legs and resting his chin on his palm. 'if you don't wanna go away, you're welcome to stay and keep me company. Because Aizen-sama told me to guard Inoue Orihime, so that's what I'm gonna do. If you wanna guard her with me, you can stay.'

The two had exchanged a tremendously confused glance.

'But, I have to say,' Yammy had continued, in an innocent, sleepy tone that was ill fitting to his roughly cut features and thick lips. 'if I were you, I wouldn't be hanging around. Cuz I have a little secret to tell you, _amigas_…You know how you teased Lilinette with that Grimmjow's in good health?'

'Huh?' Loly muttered, shaking her head.

'You spoke very true words,' the Decima continued, '_no es broma. _Grimmjow's in really good health.'

He had sniffed at the air, his wide nostrils seeming to absorb half the oxygen in the room.

'And he's coming this way, _amigas_. Maybe he's searching for Inoue Orihime. But maybe he's searching for you. You know how Grimmjow is, he doesn't like to leave things unfinished.'

'I gotta wonder - if I was you,' Yammy had followed, 'I wouldn't want to guess what Grimmjow's looking for. I reckon, you got fifty-fifty chances that he's not looking for the two of you, but you know, I don't really know that much. So if you wanna make sure, you can stay here with me, and find out. Baaah,' he had suddenly exclaimed. 'That's not right. If you stay here and you're here when Grimmjow comes, we won't know if he was looking for you, or for her. Right? Cuz all three of you are gonna be in the same place, so you know, wherever he goes, he's gonna find you, and finish what Inoue Orihime didn't let him finish the last time. _Es muy complicado_,' Yammy had muttered to himself.

'But one thing's for sure,' he'd concluded, shrugging helplessly. 'Unlike me, Grimmjow won't have to worry a whole lot about making Aizen-sama angry by killing the two of you. I reckon he's made Aizen-sama angry enough already.'

'Guess they didn't want to stay and keep me company, after all,' he'd muttered looking slightly confused as the two vanished into thin air. '_Que lastima_.'

After those words, the chamber had become and remained quiet, and Orihime took could not find the courage to talk. She simply stood in the darkness, looking at the giant's back and shoulders, and wondering if he was taller sitting down than she was standing fully upright. The thought was silly, but she could truly not concentrate on anything else – not because of Yammy's spiritual presence. His reiatsu was, indeed, greatly diminished and in great turmoil, but it was not that which caused her thoughts to scatter and flap about her head like a flock of dark birds. It was something else about him, something that she had had a lot of difficulty understanding, and which had broken her heart once she finally had.

'You miss him a lot, don't you, Yammy-sama?'

The Decima had not turned towards her.

'Do you think it was my fault?' she whispered. Both of them knew what she meant.

Yammy didn't answer the question.

'Ulquiorra was my friend,' the Decima said, instead. 'He never made fun of me for being slow; he just always told me what to do, and he was never angry at me when I couldn't do it, not even when I was his Fraccion. And he came to help me, and then he died. You cried human tears for him. He would have thought that was weak.'

Silence stretched again for a while.

'Loly and Menoly were right, you know, Inoue Orihime,' Yammy suddenly spoke up. 'Aizen-sama says he doesn't need you anymore. He said that when I sense they are coming for you, I should take away your hairpins and crumble the pillars. He said they should see it, so they know that all their efforts are meaningless against him; that he alone decides if and when anyone's life ends. Maybe like this, Aizen-sama said, they will understand the powers of a God are wasted on those who are too weak to accept them. Aizen-sama wants to make a point.'

Despite herself, Orihime whimpered. The windowless, heavy walls stretched for hundreds of feet above.

'Aizen-sama, who has power over life and death, decided to let my friend's life end so he could make a point.' Yammy observed to no one in particular, then, he finally turned towards her, small, weasel like eyes buried beneath a fleshy brow and blinking in incomprehension. 'You cried for him.'

Nothing else was said.

* * *

Up Next - Barragan's plan is ruined! (I personally think he could sue.)


	48. Incipitur

Yaawn! Good evening...night...Morning!

Thank all those who read and leave me a note :)

I am greatful to Maidros who works with me, and Michael who bears with me :)

Warnings - Language, since Grimm is in. Violence, since Ken-chan is in.

Chapter 48 - Where the essential question is posed. Why...? (and then, there's fun stuff.)

* * *

Had he been in released form, Grimmjow would have swung his tail in annoyance; without that particular benefit, he contented himself on cursing and shaking his head. He shifted position slightly, dodging the torn body of an unfortunate Exequias that flew over his head. It landed somewhere behind, a discrete crack announcing that whatever bone had still been left intact in its body had broken on impact. Isane, who had remained some thirty feet behind, cringed at the sound.

'I'm bored,' Grimmjow muttered to Ichigo, who helplessly shrugged, then dropped to one knee as yet another masked figure was hurled in their direction.

'Can you at least watch where you throw them, Kenpachi?' the human yelled, shaking his fist; his shout was barely audible over the racket, so the Shinigami did not turn around. He rushed forward, pushing his zanpakutoh through the mask of an Exequias and grabbing another by the throat in the same motion; a third was crushed under his foot.

Kenpachi shook his sword free, this time hurling the unfortunate corpse towards its companions. A lucky few dodged, but most drew backwards, trampling the lines behind them and slipping on the blood that completely covered the stone floor in sheer, absolute panic – the Shinigami clenched his fingers, causing the neck of the Exequias to break and its head to fall limply to the side.

'Ha!' Kenpachi exclaimed, with tremendous satisfaction. His next sword blow sliced an Exequias in half, and still carried enough momentum to cut off the sword arm of the one who stood next to it. Since most of his enemies had withdrawn out of his reach, Kenpachi leapt forward, his insane courage being rewarded by Yachiru's giggles. The two flanks he had created by pushing the lines of the Exequias to the sides closed about him, and, for a moment, it looked as if indeed he'd advanced too far. The white-clad figures hid him from sight, moving together like a writhing mass of worms. The only remaining indication to his position was the pink top of Yachiru's head, which rose above the mass of smooth, white skulls.

'Heee!' she chimed, her voice rising over the noise just as her head rose above the disorderly movement of bodies. 'Go, Ken-chan!'

Unwisely, Grimmjow drew Pantera and took a step forth – a more experienced Ichigo drew back, almost reaching Isane's side. Not one, but three Exequias flew through the ranks of their companions, scattering them and allowing the three a quick glimpse at Kenpachi stabbing the chest of one fallen enemy while expertly catching another's arm and tearing it loose from its joint; clouds of finely crushed bone and mists of blood exploded in the air about.

'D'ya see the arm fly off?' Kenpachi shouted, in pure glee; Yachiru applauded.

'Is she for real?' Grimmjow asked, shaking his head.

Ichigo shrugged helplessly – for all of the time he'd known Kenpachi and Yachiru, he had been wondering the same.

There were shouts of panic and grunts of pain, but no sounds of metal clashing; Kenpachi did not bother parrying blows, and, though he could not see anything, Ichigo sensed that none of the unfortunate guards were strong enough to even scratch the Shinigami.

The Exequias continued to attack nonetheless, in an ever tightening circle. They stepped on the bodies of their companions and slipped on their blood, but continued to advance, driven by communal ill judgment.

No more than six were left of the sixty when the Exequias finally understood that numbers would not grant victory against this opponent. Standing around the Shinigami, and amid the scattered corpses and limbs of their companions, they hesitated, but, against all logic, they did not flee. They simply switched targets.

They spun around in perfect synchronicity, and headed for Grimmjow and Ichigo – their new choice of targets did not prove more fortunate than their previous one had been. It took a mere swing of Zangetsu's wide blade to cut one opponent in half and sever another's leg at the knee. The three that were faced with Grimmjow only stood for a mere instant longer – the lower halves of their bodies stood for an eerie second longer after the their torsos were pulverized by the Sexta's Cero. Grimmjow did not get the time to enjoy his only three kills of the day, and had to jump, allowing the mangled body of an Exequias that had not been fast enough to evade Kenpachi to slip under his feet.

'Fucking hell, dude,' he exclaimed, and Ichigo could not truly distinguish if the phrase had been loaded with annoyance or admiration.

There was no misinterpreting the look of sheer disappointment on Kenpachi's features, however.

'Was that it?' he asked, casually stabbing through a pile of three bodies to stop one of them from twitching. Isane frowned, but said nothing, a stern expression of disapproval on her face.

'Hardly,' Grimmjow drawled, sheathing Pantera's gleaming and unstained blade. 'Plenty more where those came from. Just next time, leave some for me…'

'Eh, get your own,' Kenpachi and Yachiru snapped, in a single voice.

'Are you all right, Isane?' Ichigo asked. The vice-captain of the fourth division looked pale.

'In the sense that I am unhurt,' she answered, in a cutting tone. 'I am just disturbed by this…' She looked about, then shrugged, at a loss for words. '…carnage,' she concluded, biting her lower lip.

'They came at me,' Kenpachi shrugged, apologetically.

'And they didn't run away,' Yachiru completed.

'Nothing I could do.' The captain added.

'Nope, nothing,' the little girl agreed.

'Don't tell me you're one of them _Rules of Engagement _idiots too, woman,' Grimmjow said. ''Sides,' he continued, with a wide, feral grin, 'what should we have said? Your sixty ain't no match for our four…'

'Five!' Kenpachi and Yachiru protested, in a single voice.

'Yeh, whatever! Five,' Grimmjow corrected himself. 'Your sixty ain't no match for our _five,_ so run the fuck away and let us through?'

'Something along those lines,' Isane resolutely answered, though she had to inwardly admit the phrase did not sound overly intimidating or intelligent. 'Let's keep moving,' she said, shuffling past Ichigo and struggling not to look at the bodies that were scattered about. Despite the fact that she kept her pale lips pressed together, Ichigo could tell she felt miserable; on some deeply irrational level, he found that he shared her displeasure.

Of course, the human thought, these were just Hollows; the fact that they had human-looking bodies did not change that basic truth. Yet, since he had arrived in Hueco Mundo and Las Noches, Ichigo himself had not _killed_ a single one of them so far. He had defeated Dordonii and Grimmjow, but left both alive, and though he'd felt killing urges with both of them, he'd simply used them to fuel his battle skills. Nothing more – as soon as he had won, he had lost all desire to kill.

Still, the boy told himself, rushing to keep up with Isane, who advanced at a nervously fast pace, there was a difference between…_these_, he thought, drawing a deep breath as he unwillingly looked to the bodies at his feet, and Grimmjow and Dordonii. Somehow, killing these felt even more wrong.

'They're like lemmings,' he said, mostly to himself. Isane heard him and nodded.

'That's just the thing,' she answered, after casting a quick glance over her shoulder at Kenpachi. 'They saw that they could not even touch Captain Kenpachi, but they still kept coming, wave after wave, until they were all dead. What kind of a rational creature does that?'

'They ain't smart, woman,' Grimmjow shrugged, coming up from behind with his hands deeply shoved in his pockets. 'If they're told to do something, they do it.'

'Even if it kills them?' Isane frowned.

Without bothering to respond, Grimmjow took his right hand out of his pocket and casually waved it to indicate the bloody scene about them as conclusive evidence.

'But how is that possible, Grimmjow Jagguerjaques?' Isane protested. 'You have said yourself that the Exequias are the guards and servants of Las Noches, that one can communicate with them and they can respond. This tells me they have some sort of intelligence, so, how does one build any intelligence without any sense of self-preservation?'

'Dunno,' the Sexta said, yawning to demonstrate his pointed disinterest in the subject.

'Even more, why?' Isane continued. 'Why give things any amount of intelligence if mechanical obedience would be enough? It just makes obeying orders that you understand will lead to your death more painful.'

'You mean why make things smart if the smartness is of no use?' Ichigo asked.

'Yes, sort of,' the girl said. 'Self-awareness is a hard thing to instill in a Hollow soul…why would Aizen go through this much trouble and use the Hougyaku on something he clearly sees as disposable? I mean, there must be better use of his time…'

'Not much,' Grimmjow answered. 'Have you looked around? Ain't nothing here but sand and rocks.'

'You're not much different,' Kenpachi said, finally sheathing his Zanpakutoh after wiping it on the side of his cloak. As if he had been expecting to be punched any second, Ichigo drew wisely away when the Shinigami captain advanced. Grimmjow frowned in confusion, guessing the phrase had been directed at him, but not truly grasping what it meant.

'Nope, not different at all!' Yachiru agreed, hoisting herself up and sitting upright on Kenpachi's shoulder.

'You mean I'm also sand and rocks? Or that I'm bored? …the fuck?' the Sexta said, cranking his nose.

'Nooo, Kitty-san,' the little girl laughed, as her captain looked down on him with an expression of _intellectual superiority?_ Grimmjow thought, his frown growing deeper. 'It's this way!' Yachiru suddenly exclaimed, pointing at a dark corridor that led to their left.

'Szayel Aporro Granz said we should go straight,' Isane half-heartedly said.

'It's this way!' Yachiru resolutely repeated. Without hesitation, Kenpachi headed into the corridor; Isane and Ichigo followed, sighing deeply. 'What Ken-chan means,' she suddenly picked up again, 'is that you're not too different from the Exequias either, Kitty-san.'

'Not you yourself,' Kenpachi added, in an unexpectedly conciliatory tone. 'All of you Arrancar.'

Grimmjow turned to the Shinigami, ready to respond to the insult – yet, there was no trace of condescendence in Zaraki's eyes.

'You all have more qualities than you have use for. You all seem to have more qualities than _he_ has use for.'

'Takes a lot of effort to make an army,' Yachiru followed. 'And even if you don't make-make it, as in from thin air like Aizen did, it takes a lot of effort to keep anyone in order…'

'Eh, Yachiru,' Ichigo said, 'you and Kenpachi don't keep any order in your division whatsoever.'

'I just said it's hard,' Yachiru matter-of-factly shrugged. 'And when things get hard, Ken-chan smokes his pipe and I go eat something sweet. But we stick to each other, ya know? Even if we don't help each other out in fights, we still stick to each other. And we wouldn't want Baldy and Eyebrow to get killed, though we didn't make them.'

'Heck, didn't even train them,' Kenpachi said. 'And I still don't send anyone out to get killed like an idiot. Or allow them to get killed like idiots, for that matter.'

'I'm not gettin' ya, dude,' Grimmjow said in surrender. 'What the fuck are you talking about?'

'I am saying that it is idiotic of Aizen to spend so much time and energy on making complicated things, if he is going to send them to die, or let them die anyway. What's the sense of making these Exequias creatures smart – or, well, so human-like, if they just run forward and kill themselves?' Kenpachi answered. 'By the same token, what's the point of making you, Espada, if in the end he leaves you completely to your own devices and gets nothing out of you?'

'One might argue that God always gives free-will,' Isane whispered.

'Aizen's not God,' Kenpachi dryly responded. 'But he's playing. He's making things only to play with them. That's not right.'

'Makes no sense at all,' Yachiru agreed. 'Unless he's totally cooky.'

'And he's not totally cooky.' Her captain nodded.

'Or if he is that powerful,' Isane remarked. 'Maybe all of the Hollows he transformed are just meant to be a distraction.'

'Naaaa,' Yachiru said. 'If he were that powerful, he wouldn't need no one. I'm sure if he could, he'd just have gone to the Sereitei and made his key, and not stalled for six months, creating things he doesn't use properly. He could have eaten _a lot_ of rice cakes in the time he used to make those sixty masked-white-thingies we just killed back there.'

'So what you wanna say is that he wasted his time with the Exequias,' Grimmjow said. 'And that he wasted his time on me, and Szayel Aporro and Nellie?'

Kenpachi and Yachiru shrugged in perfect synchronicity.

'Not only you,' Isane picked up. 'Also on the ones who got killed because of his lack of intervention - the ninth Espada, the seventh Espada, the fifth…the fourth…seems like he's throwing away a whole bunch of you.'

'He doesn't control what comes out of the other side of the gem,' Grimmjow answered, shaking his head. 'How I see it is that he got _real_ lucky with Ulquiorra, Halibel and Barragan. And Stark,' he reluctantly added.

'But he let Ulquiorra die,' Ichigo frowned. 'What was the point of that? He could have swooped down in the middle of fighting and gotten him back. Ulquiorra was so very powerful,' the human thoughtfully continued. 'But he never saw combat. His power was never used.'

'Just cuz you didn't see a thing doesn't mean it didn't happen, Kurosaki,' Grimmjow argued, waving his hand in annoyance. 'Ulquiorra definitely had his uses, and Szayel Aporro did as well; one of them snapped God's whip, the other made funky machinery. I'd think Aizen got a lot more outta both of them than he put in.'

'Yes, perhaps,' Isane admitted. 'But, as you've just said, Aizen has no control over what comes out the other side of the gem. The only thing he knows is how powerful the individual is going in - he made you, Espada, because you are powerful, yet it was this sheer power, the initial reason why he made you, that he does not seem keen on using. So, why did he make you?'

'Dunno, woman,' the Sexta surrendered. 'Maybe 'cuz I'm such a loveable guy.'

'That's definitely not the case, Grimmjow,' Ichigo laughed.

'Yeh, well,' the Arrancar sneered, 'I really don't know. If there's any use to makin' the lot of us, I've no bloody clue what it is. Maybe he made us all self exploding,' he cackled.

'You already were self-exploding,' the human prodded.

'If it ain't the pot calling the kettle black,' Kenpachi grinned.

Ichigo scoffed, but did not get a chance to respond; Yachiru's sense of direction had yet again brought them the right way. The corridor ended and light exploded above – in the distance, a bone white tower stretched towards the merrily sunlit sky, from the middle of a wide marble platform. Which was, in its turn, teeming with white clad figures, so many that it seemed the massive foundation would crumble at any second.

'Not this time you don't,' Grimmjow growled, catching the fact that Kenpachi's grin had just grown, making his mouth look three times its normal size.

As if he hadn't heard anything, Kenpachi laughed and charged forward.

* * *

Stark squinted through the parted fingers of the hand he'd lifted to shield his eyes. The light explosion was gone, though the tremendous heat that had accompanied it still made the air tremble and writhe, creating the sensation of looking through a flame.

Yamamoto's attack had blown almost all of the Numeros away or simply torn them apart; quite a few of those who had survived it had instantly decided that discretion was the better part of valor, and scattered into the four winds – of Aizen's latest creations, only less than a quarter had stood their ground. It was still quite enough, Stark reckoned, completely lowering his hand and looking behind him to Lilinette.

She was unscathed, just as he had expected, and though Apache, who stood at her side, looked quite shaken, she was all right as well; disgusted by the brief moment of insanity that had clearly gripped them during the fiery assault, Mira Rose and Sun-Sun let go of each other's hands and drifted away from each other, exchanging a glance as poisonous as any Stark had ever seen. He looked beyond them.

'Now, who saw _that_ coming?' he sighed, when he caught a glimpse of the tall flaming dome that had surrounded the three former Shinigami. The flames looked as if they had gathered solid consistency – a perfect excuse for the three not to join the battle, Stark thought.

'If ya say it makes your head spin, I'm gonna smack ya,' Lilinette warned, cranking her nose.

'It was only an expression of great surprise,' the Primera said, apologetically shrugging, not towards Lilinette, but towards Halibel who had given him a reproachful glance. She had not even squinted against Yamamoto's attack, and the furious outpour of reiatsu had barely made her hair sway. 'I can see why it could have been interpreted as an ironic musing, but…'

He yawned, choosing not to finish the phrase.

'What have we here?' Barragan thundered from behind.

He brought himself forth, the five Fracciones still slinking quietly behind him.

'Our enemies are numerous,' the Segunda observed, with no little satisfaction. 'And the boss' stuck in there,' he added – it was not the bloodlust in his voice that made Stark cringe, however. It was the slight arch of Halibel's right eyebrow, and the amused glitter in her eyes, that had suddenly reminded him of the true Halibel, Halibel before Aizen.

Neither of them had been fond of Barragan; in the century before the Shinigami had taken over the world both Halibel and Stark had had their brushes with the elderly war chief. Never serious battles, but rather periodic skirmishes that were used to ascertain their respective levels of power, and there had never been a true victor. Barragan had laid siege to Halibel's fortress three times, and he had had to renounce it three times with grievous losses.

_Three decades are upon me. If Barragan did not try my walls every thirty years on the day, I swear my grasp of the passage of time would be weaker, _she had once said, looking down on a writhing mass of Adjuchas that were gathered before her gates.

The memory of Halibel's dry amusement made Stark draw a deep breath. She never truly smiled back then either, but at least she made the fact that she posessed a sense of humor far more obvious.

Barragan's battle tactics were clearly a remnant of his human life - he seemed to believe that regardless of logic, numbers triumphed in the end, and he'd always commanded legions. They had not helped him against Halibel's fortress, and they certainly had not helped in his one encounter with Stark, who had used his Sonido to pass through hundreds of rows of Adjucas, held his scimitar to Barragan's throat, shaken his head in boredom and vanished to thin air.

Neither memory seemed to dampen Barragan's present spirits, however; despite the fact that he had never defeated either of his two companions, he still deemed himself the most worthy commander among them, and stepped up to take charge as if it had been the most natural and unquestionable thing in the world.

'I think you underestimate Aizen, Barragan,' Halibel said simply.

'I think you underestimate _me_, Halibel,' the Segunda answered. The female Arrancar barely had time to exchange another glance with Stark before Barragan snapped his fingers. As if they had been waiting for nothing else, his Fracciones sprung into action, unfolding the large, white shawl they had been painstakingly carrying. A pile of white bone shards scattered through the air, but immediately started coming together, each seeking and finding its proper place with mechanical speed and precision that would have made Szayel blush with spite. Tibias and femurs melded together to form a seat and armrests. Two long and twisted horns formed the outer frame of the back rest, and, as Barragan took his seat with a deep, satisfied sigh, two small identical skulls completed the armrests.

'He brought his _throne_?' Apache muttered, as Lilinette incredulously shook her head. 'For fuck's sake…'

'What did you say, girl?' Barragan thundered.

'Nothing, Barragan-sama,' the Fraccion quickly answered; pleased with the fact that Halibel had made no gesture to defend her underling, Barragan slightly shifted his wheight, making himself thoroughly comfortable. In awe, his Fracciones bowed, waiting for his next words in eager, fawning anticipation.

'With the boss unable to move, I'll be giving the orders. You'd better not have a problem with that,' he said, in a flat tone, his stare burrowing into Stark's as if challenging him to protest. He should have known better, of course.

'Sure,' Stark shrugged. 'Why not? Ow! That hurt, Lilinette,' Stark protested weakly to Lilinette's swift and painful kick.

'I'll tell you why not! After all you've done to park your butt on the first seat, what are you doing, going along with him now?' the Fraccion furiously asked. 'Don't you have any balls?'

'Shut up,' Mira Rose bitingly commanded, at Halibel's prompt. Lilinette bit her lip and swallowed her words, though her glance promised many more kicks to come.

Pleased by the fact that none but an unimportant Fraccion chose to challenge his command, Barragan smirked.

'The town beneath our feet,' he began, his voice enhanced and resounding strongly enough to make Stark's scimitar vibrate unpleasantly, ' is a fake. It's been replaced by a replica created in Soul Society…'

'No kiddin', wow,' Lilinette muttered. 'How'd ya guess? Could it be that you finally sensedthere are no souls down there?'

'Na, he's sharp, he is,' Apache responded, in a low whisper.

'How would Grimmjow say? _Thank you, Captain Obvious!'_ Lilinette snickered in her turn; her amusement was quickly doused by the other Fraccion's suddenly pained glance; she cringed, and looked to Stark with renewed fury.

'The boss said – all we need to do is infiltrate Soul Society and get a hold of the true town,' Barragan continued.

'That's news to me?' Stark said, questioningly glancing in Halibel's direction. She didn't respond. She just pressed her eyelids together, and slightly tilted her head to the side. 'Ah, I was asleep,' the Primera apologetically admitted. 'My mistake,' he sighed, and, underneath her visor, Halibel chuckled at a joke that would have made her frown menacingly but a few days before. Clearly, Stark thought, being Primera had done wonders for his sense of humor.

'…but,' Barragan reiterated, 'do we really need to go through all that trouble?'

Stark's sleepy glance regained focus.

'According to him, you placed four pillars at the corners of the town, and used them to swap it out. What would happen,' the Segunda wickedly asked, 'what would happen if we destroyed those pillars?'

The phrase seemed to cause an undue amount of agitation between the Shinigami; the tall and rather heavily built individual that Stark had designated as Lilinette's target shifted uncomfortably, spinning about himself in obvious panic.

'We know where the pillars are,' the Segunda continued. 'They are on the bridges that mark the cardinal points, at each entrance to Karakura town…'

'Fools,' Yamamoto's voice finally resounded in response. 'Do you truly think we would leave such important locations unprotected?'

'The question does seem to spring to mind, Barragan,' Halibel observed coldly.

'We have skilled fighters stationed at those locations.' The Captain Commander continued. 'The elite of Soul Society…'

Barragan did not wait for him to complete the phrase; instead, with monumental slowness, he raised his palm and snapped his fingers. The wide mouths of Garganta stretched across the sky in the distance, then gaped their toothless, dark, depths – white writhed and stirred through the blackness, and a massive Hollow crawled out of the four openings. Not Menos, Stark thought, with a minute frown - though they certainly were larger, the four creatures seemed woefully slow and low on reiatsu. Nonetheless, the air was filled with their deep growls and the ground shook under their colossal wheight as they fully emerged.

It shook even more strongly when they were simultaneously cut down and crumbled, rivers of black blood splattering through the illusionary walls and gushing towards the ground. Four previously concealed reiatsu burst forth – to his credit, Stark noted, Barragan was only half surprised.

'So what?' the elderly Arrancar growled, hands clenched on the two horned skulls that adorned the arrests of his throne. 'If four ants are guarding the pillars, I'll send four dragons to crush them!'

'Po!' he grunted, calling forth a giant lumbering form. 'Coolhorn! Abirama. Findor. Crush them,' he commanded, with narrowed eyes and clenched jaws.

'Yes, Sir!' the four simultaneously exclaimed, rushing forth from the shadow of their master's throne. 'Your wish is our command!' They vanished to Sonido, with only delicate air ripples to betray their direction and trajectory.

'Oh, give me a break,' Stark sighed. 'Do you really intend to let them go out alone?

'My soldiers are at least equally matched to…' the Segunda sneered.

'Yes, that is sort of the point of my, eh, query.' Stark answered dryly. 'I am not fond of _equally matched…_If this was a duel tournament, by all means, I would be delighted to sleep though the balanced battles and congratulate the victor. As is, however, I believe the point of our presence here is winning – and I for one would prefer to do it with minimum losses. Balanced battles are not the point. Quick ones are. Is that not what Aizen-sama would want?' he asked, arching an innocent eyebrow. 'Halibel,' he prompted without looking her way. Reiatsu focused and eyes attentively fixed in front of her, the female Arrancar nodded. 'West, then south. I'll be north, then east.'

She nodded again, and Barragan's lower jaw hung open.

'Ladies,' Stark smiled over his shoulder at the Fracciones, 'let the games begin.'

_And by all means, let everybody come out and play._

The new Primera did not believe that menial battles existed. That was, perhaps, the main difference between himself and Aizen, and the thing that he had always found comfortingly familiar about Halibel – neither of them had an inherent love of battle, and neither of them had ever sought to make it into an art. On the contrary, both of them had always tried their best to win quickly and easily, and rarely thought any opponent too menial to eliminate. Even more so, under the present circumstances, Stark had no interest in chancing that Yamamoto's group achieved any victory, even if it was against Barragan's insufferable Fracciones; early wins were powerful boosters of morale, which in turn served to make the following battles harder.

Besides, Stark thought, casually pressing the wrist of his right hand with his left thumb, he did have a vested interest in the battle progressing to captain level before Kuchiki and his band of misfits made an appearance. The more of the Gotei strike-force he managed to push Halibel and Barragan into eliminating, the least likely it was that the Shinigami would possess significant enough strength to turn against the Arrancar survivors.

As for the Primera himself, he could scarcely afford to have his long awaited attempt at Yamamoto with the captain of the sixth in attendance. He had a sneaking suspicion that any _captatio benevolentiae_ would be wasted after that point.

He disappeared after Halibel had, and not even the air rippled as a sign of their passage.

* * *

Up Next - Halibel fights, and Renji fondles Szayel. Halibel emerges satisfied. Renji, less so.


	49. A good day for science

Good evening y'all, and thank you all for reading and commenting :D And thanks, Maidros, for reading my stuff :)

I am happy and slightly drunk...would you believe if I told you I am just back from a company strategy meeting? You wouldn't but...I loves me job!

Chapter 49 - Where doors are unlocked.

* * *

'Da truth is,' Apache earnestly said, shoving her hands in her pockets as she leaned over Charlotte Coolhorn. 'you really are ugly. Ain't no hiding it. Maybe, if you survive, after ya consider a change of sex, you could consider a change of religion? To something that, ya know, would keep you more covered?'

The man grunted; with barely enough strength to roll on his side, he seemed to have lost his usual drive for celebrating his self professed physical beauty. Apache smirked and straightened.

'On the other hand,' Mira Rose casually observed, gesturing towards Yumichika Ayasegawa, 'this one is kind of cute.' She propped her hand on her hip, giving the Shinigami a long and appraising glance. 'Though I don't think you like girls, do you, Shinigami?' she asked, sensuously leaning forward.

'The two of you are so embarrassing,' SunSun sighed, in her turn.

Yumichika did not respond. He had barely caught his breath when the three new enemies had appeared; the wound in his side still bled profusely, and his left arm felt like a dead wheight. None of the three women that had suddenly surrounded him felt weaker than the opponent he had just faced. On the contrary, their presences far surpassed that of Coolhorn. To make matters worse, there was something else in the air, raw spiritual pressure emanating from a source he could not yet identify; it rendered the air unbearably hot and dry, causing it to ripple and awkwardly bend sunlight.

'Show yourself,' he said, holding his Zanpakutoh up, in a guard position.

The air amid the three young women writhed and fluid darkness caught shape – at first, Halibel looked like an illusion, her contours faint and distorted, but, as the woman materialized fully, Yumichika had to desperately fight the instinct of drawing back. Any fighter that did not belong to the 11th division might have.

The woman said nothing. She simply stood, assessing him with her vibrantly green eyes for what felt like an eternity of frozen silence.

'Tercera Espada,' she said at long length. 'Halibel.'

She did not give him time to answer. With precise gestures, she pointed her Fracciones to the corners of a triangle around him; following her orders, the three posted themselves in position, without drawing their weapons – after Coolhorn's too loud and boisterous attack, their modest and disciplined behavior was disconcerting, and, Yumichika had to admit, deeply worrying. As was the fact that apart from throwing a few casual insults at Barragan's defeated Fraccion, none of the four had spared Coolhorn a second glance.

'Your ally is dying,' Yumichika said, narrowing his eyes.

'He is not my ally,' Halibel responded simply. She stepped forward, not straightening her arms, and allowing the Shinigami to closely scrutinize her in his turn. And she was, Yumichika thought, despite himself, truly beautiful, even more so because her shamelessly uncovered body radiated no sexuality. Only aggression and strength.

'I am Yumichika Ayasegawa,' the Shinigami said. 'Fifth seat of the 11th division.'

Halibel arched an eyebrow, casting a cold and amused glance over her shoulder at Coolhorn, as if mocking his weakness.

'Fifth seat,' she said – although her eyes stayed cold, there was definite amusement in her voice. 'And you are referred to as _elite_?'

'I can easily defeat any of your three underlings,' Yumichika responded, running his fingers through his hair, and smiling provocatively.

'I am not curious,' Halibel flatly stated.

As if all of his prayers had suddenly been answered, Yumichika's features broke into a resplendent smile.

'You intend to fight me yourself?' he beamed. 'And all this while Madarame gets only a Fraccion!' he exclaimed, clenching a victorious little fist. 'Can't wait until captain Kenpachi hears about this! I am flattered!'

'You're an idiot,' Apache muttered.

Halibel nodded slightly. 'If you are flattered,' she said, with supreme indifference, 'enjoy it. I promise you, it will be quite brief.'

She stepped forward, her gaze growing in focus. The heat she radiated was not an illusion caused by her reiatsu – facing her felt like standing under the scorching desert sun.

'You are odd,' the Espada observed. 'You emit no spiritual power. Rather, you seem to absorb it. Interesting.'

The Shinigami raised his chin in instinctive defiance. It was perhaps the first time in his entire existence when an enemy had so quickly and easily identified his Zanpakutoh's strength.

'The fact that you have felt it already means nothing,' Yumichika laughed.

'Unfortunately for yourself, the fact that you possess such an ability is equally useless,' SunSun said.

Yumichika half turned to answer her taunt, but did not have time to utter a single word. With the corner of his eyes, he caught the fact that Halibel's shape trembled, as if a sheet of imperfect glass had suddenly fallen between them. His parry came too late; he'd been caught on the wrong foot, and his injured body's reaction was far too slow. Halibel's still sheathed sword easily brushed his guard aside, leaving his chest open to a vicious elbow strike, that instantly forced all the air out of his lungs.

He held firm but coiled defensively, realizing his mistake only when Halibel's closed fist crunched his nose flat – she had not even withdrawn her arm before the hit. The entire force of the strike had stemmed from a simple upwards rotation of her forearm, which had nonetheless carried sufficient momentum to send him flying helplessly backwards. She did not allow him to drift away; she caught him by the collar, and, in the same fluid motion, viciously pulled him forward and hit him against her bent left knee.

The entirety of her frame seemed to be constructed out of steel, and the Shinigami felt like a rag doll in her grasp. He coughed, splattering crimson on her white hakama, and pointlessly tried to bring his Zanpakutoh up from the side. Though she had said nothing, Yumichika understood that Halibel had put her earlier observation on the nature of his sword to good use – all she was employing against him was the crushing force of her body, but no reiatsu – the heat he had felt when she was approaching was completely subdued, leaving nothing for Ruri-iro Kujaku to feed on.

Halibel caught his wrist, but did not stop the motion until he had pulled his entire forearm through her hand and her fingers had come to encircle his wrist. The Espada's hand clenched with the implacable force of a wrench, and Yumichika heard his bones crack long before he acknowledged the pain – Halibel straightened her knee and loosened her grasp on his collar, giving him the momentary illusion that she would draw away. Yet, it was naught but a momentary respite before the final blow.

Keeping him lurched forward, she took a minute step to the left, positioning herself on his side. Her right leg kicked far above his head, making him wonder if she had missed her aim. She hadn't – as easily and gracefully as she had extended it, she brought it down, bending her knee and trapping his neck between her thigh and shin. The broad side of her short Zanpakutoh hit dryly against his spine, and all sensation in the lower part of the Shinigami's body disappeared. He did not even have the time to draw breath.

The Espada spun, pivoting both of their weights on her left foot, before extending her right leg and letting him fall to the ground.

'Elite,' she scoffed, and to Yumichika's pain distorted senses, the word had not carried any trace of disappointment. Only indifferent mockery.

For a moment, the entirety of his universe was reduced to the woman's ankles and shins – they were the only thing he could see, and he had neither the force to lift his head nor the clarity of sense to focus on anything else. He just idly wondered if she would crush his skull with her left or right foot.

Halibel turned away.

'Finish this, SunSun,' she said, dryly – another pair of silver sandals over dark silk socks drifted into Yumichika's field of vision. 'Then, go and find the illusion generating device and destroy it. I'll take Apache and move to the next tower. How is Coolhorn?' Halibel asked, her voice not betraying even the most minor trace of genuine interest.

'Not so good,' Mira Rose answered.

'Can he continue the fight?'

'Naaa,' Apache responded. 'He's done for. Resurrection broken and all that jazz. He ain't goin' nowhere.'

'Then finish that, too,' Halibel ordered.

She lifted her chin and closed her eyes, causing a wave of unbearable heat to pass over the Shinigami's broken frame. It was so intense that it was all but physical pressure.

'Stark's not done in the north,' she suddenly chuckled. 'Abirama's Shinigami seems to be giving them both a good run-around. Let's hurry up – if we are equally fast in the south, we'll get east before Stark does.'

'Heee,' Apache giggled. 'Lili's gonna be pissed!'

Halibel contented herself on a nod.

There was a sound mid-way between a dry crack and a wet thud – something akin to the sound of an egg being dropped, and Coolhorn's faint reiatsu vanished completely. On the edges of Yumichika's universe, Mira Rose shook her staff of blood and hair, as Apache frowned in disgust.

'Watch where you shake away that shit, Mira Rose!' the odd-eyed girl screamed, shaking her fist. 'You're making me dirty!'

'Stop hanging around like a wall flower, then, and do something useful!' Mira Rose shot back.

Delicate, graceful silk flapped above Yumichika, but the gentle rustling of fabric did not disguise the hiss of the unsheathed blade. He closed his eyes.

Yet, unlike what he had expected, sound of clashing metal exploded above, finally forcing focus back to his senses. He whimpered as he pushed himself up on his right elbow, with the dazed speed of one who'd been brutally jolted out of deep slumber. The dark haired Fraccion leaned above him, but did not look his way – she looked behind her, an expression of fear and surprise on her features. Halibel's back, with its perfect, golden skin, was turned towards him, and, even beyond that, there was black silk and gold.

'Captain SoiFon,' Yumichika whispered, not knowing whether to be relieved or humiliated.

Halibel brushed the Shinigami captain aside with the breadth of her sword – SoiFon did not waste time on resisting the motion. She simply vanished, reappearing several feet away, and, with controlled self-assurance, lifted her zanpakutoh above her head to parry the vicious swing of Mira Rose's staff. To her credit, the Fraccion was not phased – she immediately redressed her weapon, spinning in between her fingers, and rapidly knelt, aiming it at the Shinigami's shins. SoiFon jumped, allowing the staff to whirr dangerously under her feet, and, in the same motion, kicked the Fraccion in the chest, hurling her backwards.

'Leave that for later, SunSun,' Halibel ordered, in a composed tone. 'His spine is broken, he cannot move.'

The pale girl nodded and disappeared from Yumichika's side.

'Positions,' the Espada continued – SunSun drifted to the left as Apache took to the right and Mira Rose struggled to her feet, closing the triangle around the Shinigami captain.

SoiFon brought her Zanpakutoh to the ready.

'Sting all enemies to death, Suzumebachi,' she said, her gaze as cutting as her blade.

Gold gleamed in the sunlight, and, to Yumichika's dazed senses, it seemed that Halibel's eyes carried the warmth of a smile.

* * *

On second thought, Renji realized, as he unceremoniously bumped against Szayel Aporro, following the Arrancar at a three foot range had not been tremendously smart. Sonido truly left no reiatsu trail, and Szayel Aporro was almost too fast for the eye to follow. Just as the Octava had promised, the journey had been along a straight corridor, with no changes of direction, and, after almost an hour of dully following the Arrancar, Renji had all but fallen asleep. Thus, Szayel's abrupt stop had caught him completely by surprise, and he had not been able to immediately stop his Shumpo.

His chest had suddenly pressed against the Arrancar's shoulders, and, out of instinct as much as because of the momentum, Renji had protectively flung his arms about the other's frail frame.

Desperate to keep his body away from Szayel's, Renji stretched his arms forward, pressing his palms against the Arrancar's shoulders and forcing him to take another step forth. Szayel turned and smiled resplendently.

'Your insistence in offering a hug and massage is sweet, vice-captain Abarai,' he giggled. 'But you're still not my type.'

'Shut it,' Renji muttered, instinctively shaking his palms with the disgusted haste of a cat that had just stepped into a puddle. 'Why did you stop?'

'Because the corridor ends here,' Byakuya dryly answered, in Szayel's turn.

'Noo,' Renji protested, leaning forward.

The corridor's darkness stretched before them just as it stretched behind – stern, majestic arches aligned one after the other towards infinity…But, Renji realized, with a little frown, there was, indeed, something wrong.

No more than a foot in front of Szayel Aporro, the wall seemed to flicker slightly. It was not obvious, and the flickers were rare – the first one Renji caught a glimpse of seemed no more than a figment of his imagination, and he had to wait over a minute for it to repeat.

'Oh,' Renji said, blushing fiercely and looking away from his captain.

'It is a projection,' Byakuya said.

'Indeed so,' Szayel nodded.

'But didn't you say we were gonna have a straight path to the control chamber?' Renji asked; it had to be Szayel's fault somehow, the vice-captain thought. He did not know exactly how, but the fact that he could not figure it out was irrelevant. It had to be his fault, because most things were.

'This _is_ the entrance to the control chamber,' the Octava sighed.

'I can't feel a damned thing different,' Renji shrugged.

'Nor can I,' his captain agreed. 'But that in itself is odd. We've been travelling for the better part of an hour; I am assured we must have passed though different structures, underneath varying levels of stone and past portions of corridor with a variety of wall thicknesses. Yet, for all of this time, there was no difference in our perceptions.'

'It is an artificial environment, vice-captain Abarai,' Unohana said, softly. 'We feel exactly what the designer of this place intended us to feel – nothing special. There's nothing more deceiving to the senses than the habitual,' she shrugged.

The woman took a few steps forward and closed her eyes – for a moment, the corridor felt as a vast vacuum, and Szayel's eyes narrowed as he protectively pressed his palm over his ear.

'How extraordinary,' she observed, reopening her eyes. 'I knew that captain Kurosutchi was working on something like this even before Aizen's treason, but I did not know he had actually finished it in time for it to be stolen.'

Byakuya arched an eyebrow, prompting her to elaborate. He had just re-opened his eyes as well, after conducting a similar exercise to Unohana's. Judging by the unchanging expression on his flawless features, he too had failed to achieve any result.

'It's a reiatsu generator,' Unohana explained. 'I mean, I think it's a reiatsu generator,' she corrected, with an innocent giggle. 'Can't say what it is, just what it does, and it seems to be an artificial Tenkai-Kezzu…Only it does not only replicate the look of a place, it also replicates the feel…'

'Tenkai-Kezzu?' Szayel asked.

'It's a special kidou-like thing,' Renji explained, shrugging to express the fact that he had exhausted the subject.

Szayel shook his head in annoyance, then aimed a concentrated glance Unohana.

'It's an illusion,' she clarified. 'It is a kidou that generates an illusion – we're currently using it against Aizen in the human world. It's just that the one we possess creates only images, while this one seems to also create a deceiving reiatsu environment. I cannot feel anything except for the fact that the corridor stretches on. But,' she added, flicking her hand forward, 'we know that is not true.'

For less than the blink of an eye, a small section of the image of the corridor that stretched in front wavered, like the surface of a shallow puddle that was being blown away by a powerful gust of wind, and the grey stone behind it became visible. There was nothing to differentiate it from the walls to their right and left – it was, quite simply, a masterfully disguised dead end.

Displeased by the thought, Renji pulled Zabimaru's scabbard from his belt and took a step forward, clearly intending to press it through the now reconstructed projection. Byakuya's hand on his shoulder stopped him just inches from realizing his intention, and Szayel Aporro laughed.

'Do go ahead and prod the wall, vice-captain Abarai. Don't let the fact that it might be a pressure plate stop you - losing an arm or a leg is a legitimate way of disarming a trap,' the Arrancar giggled. 'Not the most intelligent one but…whatever works.'

Byakuya slightly tilted his head to the side, with a stern look, and Renji cranked his nose.

'Well,' he said, 'if you're sure that the entrance to the control chamber's got to be here, we need to try and get past this.'

'Of course,' Unohana agreed. 'But we can't really know what will happen if we outright touch wall.'

'And then,' Kuchiki suddenly said, frowning, 'the fact that the corridor _leads_ here does not necessarily imply that the entrance is in front of us. It might well be to the side, or even below us.'

'The same is true about traps and pressure plates,' Szayel nodded. 'So, keep away from the walls and watch your step. In simple language, Abarai-kun,' he purred, 'stay very, very still and let the adults figure it out.'

'Don't see how you're gonna do that,' Renji rebelliously mumbled. 'I can't feel a goddamned thing. It's like we're suspended in the middle of nothing, with nowhere to go but ahead.'

'That's also true,' Kuchiki thoughtfully agreed. 'Captain Unohana, could you try to see if there are any openings that might give away a passage?'

The woman shrugged.

'I just did,' she responded. 'But I can try again.'

She closed her eyes, and her reiatsu surged, more powerfully than the first time, rising steadily and filling the entire space. Tremendous pressure built, seeking even the most minute crack in the walls and ceiling; she frowned, causing Szayel to wince at the sheer strength of the final push, then re-opened her eyes. Unohana shrugged apologetically.

'May I?' Szayel sweetly inquired. There was no curiosity in his voice, and the question had been no more than pointless, theatrical politeness. The smug expression on his face showed he thought he already had everything under control.

'You have just enough reiatsu to tickle me,' Renji sneered.

The Arrancar smiled. 'Firstly, vice-captain Abarai, that is one activity I most definitely don't have enough reiatsu or _gusto_ for,' he said, looking at Renji with a mix of curiosity and disgust, as if the red-head had been the long decaying corpse of a mystical creature. 'And secondly,' the Arrancar sighed, adjusting his glasses, 'I do not intend to slam my reiatsu against the walls, in hope they will crumble or yield in any other manner. I scarcely see why anyone would ever do that,' he sweetly concluded.

'Because it saves time,' Renji matter-of-factly responded.

'Ooof course,' Szayel sighed. 'Little does it matter that you could set off traps that could get us all killed on this side of the door, or trigger self-destruct mechanisms on the other side of the door. As long as it is done quickly! Truly, vice-captain Abarai, if you apply this reasoning to other parts of your life, your lady friend, should you possess one, must be a thoroughly bruised and unsatisfied creature.'

For an unexplained reason, Byakuya sighed, making Szayel arch a curious eyebrow.

'Gentleman friend, perhaps?' the Arrancar purred, with visible interest.

'He is seeing my sister,' Kuchiki said, dryly, in the way of an explanation, his words causing Renji's cheeks to turn as deeply crimson as his hair. Though Abarai opened his mouth, his captain's intense glare made whatever ill-fated and completely untrue denial lodge in his throat. 'Ahem,' Byakuya coughed lightly as Unohana brought her fingers to her lips to stifle a chuckle. The ridiculous lengths that Renji and Rukia had always gone to to hide themselves from Byakuya had never truly fooled anyone, and it well suited the captain of the 6th division to communicate his knowledge at a time when any discussion would be impossible.

'Moving on,' Kuchiki prompted. Szayel expected little else.

'Quincy!' he said, tapping his earphone.

'Yes,' Ishida's voice promptly resounded.

'I will put a sensor down – please work your way to the live readings and tell me what you see.'

'All right,' the archer quickly assented.

Without any further conversation, Szayel Aporro fumbled in his pocket and extracted a small, rounded object from his pocket; he deftly pressed its side, causing a delicate telescope tripod to extend, and set it down as carefully as if the mechanism had been a living thing. He pressed its other side, and a small, green light began shining in the darkness.

'How are we looking, Ishida Uryu?' he merrily asked.

'Hm, you're looking like a giant green blot with a couple of dots in it,' The Quincy answered. 'One's pink, one's blue, sort of…and there's a red one as well.'

Szayel winced. 'Your precision is driving me to tears,' he mumbled.

'Would you like me to tell you the precise diameter of said dots, Szayel Aporro?' Ishida snapped.

'No, thank you,' the Arrancar winced. 'I just needed you to tell me if you are receiving reiatsu readings or not. You clearly are. Let's switch modes.' He yet again clicked the side of the machine, and retreated a few steps.

'You still look like a giant green blot,' Ishida said.

'Apologies,' Unohana said, lightly. 'Am I causing interference?'

'I am afraid so,' Szayel answered, in a very courteous tone. 'I am still reading reiatsu, but I am trying to find the source of the generator that is confusing us. I have set it to look for high intensity only but you may be blocking it. May I ask that you take a few steps back?'

She nodded, and slowly retreated.

'It is drawing something!' Ishida exclaimed. 'I can definitely see a structure – it is…amazing,' he breathed, the suddenly louder sound of his voice betraying the fact that he had leaned over in excitement. 'I am seeing a power-grid pattern – there are lines running in parallel through the walls around you and extending beyond. Your sensor is very cool machine, Szayel Aporro!'

'It is not _cool_,' the Arrancar muttered. 'It is a piece of genius engineering! Refer to it with respect!'

'Ishida Uryu,' Kuchiki began. 'Do the lines extend in any particular direction?'

'Yes,' the Quincy answered. 'In the corridor to your right.'

'Not ahead?' Renji asked in his turn.

'No, Abarai, only to your right,' Ishida replied. 'There's nothing ahead of you. In fact,' he reconsidered, 'the grid ahead of you looks a lot more dense than the ones to your right and left. So, take the corridor to your right,' he victoriously concluded.

'One small problem,' Renji sighed. 'There's no corridor to the right.'

'Of course there is one,' the Quincy scoffed. 'I can see it very clearly. It runs for about twenty feet, and then the grid fades.'

'Hm,' Szayel muttered, once again tapping his earphone. 'Quincy, is there any point of concentration on the grid? Or is it perfectly homogenous?'

'There is a very concentrated point on the wall in front of you,' Ishida answered. 'All the gridlines seem to be connected to it. A control panel, perhaps?'

'I'd assume so,' Szayel muttered, stepping forward and trying to see though the projection. 'What height…'

'Four feet, five inches,' Ishida quickly responded.

'Bloody Imperial,' Szayel began to curse.

'One meter forty-three centimeters,' a female voice faintly resounded from afar.

'Thank you, Nemu-chan,' the Arrancar beamed. 'Alright, Quincy, expect some interference now. Captain Unohana, may I ask that you assist?' Szayel began, kneeling and looking over his shoulder.

She nodded, and advanced to kneel by his side, extending her fingers and causing the projection to waver – for a moment, there was nothing but grey stone. Without waiting for instruction from Szayel, Unohana moved her hand horizontally along the wall, at the height that the Quincy had indicated revealed an inconspicuous box, which protruded from the wall.

'Got it,' Szayel triumphantly announced.

He extracted a small white box from his pocket and softly placed it beside his bent knee, opening it to reveal a small treasure trove of variously shaped screwdrivers and pincers.

'Are you about to perform any risky maneuvers?' Kuchiki asked, approaching from behind. 'I do not wish for Captain Unohana to be subjected to…'

'I am alright, Byakuya,' she giggled lightly. Her tone allowed no contradiction, however, so the man softly bowed his head in acquiescence and remained motionless.

'I'll know in a moment,' Szayel responded in a low whisper. He adjusted his glasses, and ran his fingers on the sides of the box – with a barely perceptible hiss, the lid of the box slid aside, revealing its contents. 'Hee,' the Octava unexpectedly giggled; even Renji had come to recognize that the sound heralded no good. 'This is not one of mine,' he observed. The Arrancar was not in the least dismayed. Quite to the contrary, his eyes glowed with excitement that reminded Renji of the unpleasant light in Szayel's eyes when he had first seen Ishida.

'How crude,' he muttered, squinting at the disorderly mass of wires.

'That looks…'Unohana began, shyly. Szayel looked at her for a second, in polite solicitude. 'Unmanageable,' she ended.

'It looks as if it's been wired together by someone who understood the basic principle, but did not quite know what he was doing.' The Arrancar nodded. His attention shifted away from her. 'You look interested, Captain of the 4th division Unohana Retsu,' he said, though he was focusing on the circuit before him.

The woman smiled, bowing her head.

'Your usage of emotional intelligence is quite impressive,' Szayel distractedly added. 'Mimicking body language and level of interest is quite flattering and is a good way of generating trust.'

Her smile only grew wider.

'It is partly that,' she admitted, at the end of a few quiet seconds. 'I would like you to trust me, since I genuinely intend no harm.'

'And because after Stark's stunt, you're even less inclined to find out what I might be inclined to do if I felt unsafe around yourself and captain Kuchiki,' Szayel snickered.

'Of course,' Unohana nodded. 'But it is partly genuine interest,' she concluded. 'I like new things. And I like riddles,' she laughed; behind her and thinking himself unobserved, Byakuya smiled. 'How are you going to solve this one?'

'I'm going to find the switches and turn them all off,' Szayel shrugged. 'Aaaah, disorder drives me insane,' he squeaked, using a delicate pair of tweezers to sift though the wires.

'You already are insane,' Renji mumbled from behind.

The Arrancar ignored him. He continued to carefully separate the wires from each other, trying to get a glimpse at the board that lay underneath, but at the end of another minute he sighed and put the tweezers away.

'I will not find anything like this,' Szayel muttered. 'Hm. Quincy,' he said, standing up and heading for the tripod. 'Can you ask Nemu-chan what material her captain uses for switches?'

'Of course,' Ishida answered. 'Hey!' he exclaimed. 'Did you switch the sensor off? Because everything is gone…'

'Yes, I did,' Szayel answered. 'It is only momentary, though.'

He returned to the circuit box and placed the sensor in line with it – as if in possession of intelligence of its own, the machine grappled the wall with four thin legs and remained attached. With rapid, deft gestures, Szayel began lining the edges of the switchboard with paper thin pieces of circuitry.

'What are you doing?' Unohana asked.

'Well,' Szayel answered, 'I am not going to see where the switches are in this mess. I need to find them in some other way. What do all switches have in common, Ishida Uryu?' he sweetly inquired.

The human hesitated for a few seconds.

'Uhm, pivot arms? Contacts?' he answered, a hint of self-disappointment in his voice.

'No need for that amount of embarrassment,' Szayel snickered, catching the nuance. 'You are luke-warm. What do all switch contacts have in common?'

This time, Ishida remained silent. It was Nemu's dispassionate and distant voice that provided the answer.

'High resistance to oxidation.' She said, dryly.

'Indeed,' Szayel purred. 'Because oxides are not conductive; if contacts corrode, they no longer conduct and the switch is ruined. There is only a finite set of materials that may be used to construct delicate switch contacts – gold, platinum...'

'Do you have a spectrometer on hand?' Ishida asked, sounding very pleased.

'I _wear_ a spectrometer, sweet Quincy,' Szayel answered. He looked delighted at Ishida's quick grasp of the idea.

'Wow, you all understand each other,' Renji sighed. 'It's like the cross-spiritual union of geeks!'

'I feel quite humbled, actually,' Byakuya shrugged.

'So do I,' Unohana said in her turn. 'What does this device do?' she asked, leaning forward.

'It will do two things,' Szayel responded. 'Firstly, I'll connect it to the board and get a map of the electrical flows, which our dear Ishida will index in an _orderly _manner. Do you hear that, Quincy? No naming electrical components Nemu-chan1, Nemu-chan2 or other romantic silliness…'

'Says the man who names his programs Blue-haired-freak and Sleepy-bastard,' Ishida sneered.

'I heard that!' Grimmjow's voice burst in. 'What the fuck, Szayel Aporro!'

'Don't mess with my code,' Szayel shrieked.

Despite the painfully high-pitched tone of his voice, his hands were remarkably steady. He attached a long, thin wire to the edge of the circuit board. The green light on the side of the sensor began blinking rapidly.

'No need to mess with it, it's already messed up,' Ishida dryly put in.

'And what are you doing in the editing pane, anyway?' the Octava muttered.

'I hope you did not expect me to index 1347 different components by hand,' the archer shot. 'I'm writing a small _clean_ piece of indexation code…'

'You have a cycle with no loop exit conditions between lines 14 and 23, Quincy Ishida Uryu,' Verona's voice informed.

The Quincy coughed lightly.

'There,' he said, after a few seconds of rapid clicking. 'Done.'

'Good,' Szayel nodded. 'Do we have them all?'

'We?' Ishida snickered, in his turn. 'Yes, we do.'

'Wonderful,' The Arrancar exclaimed, clapping his hands in pure glee. 'And now,' he haughtily explained, turning to Unohana, 'we're going to get hit each of the components on the board with a flux of highly concentrated particles; different chemical make-ups will respond to it in different ways. This will tell us what components are made of particularly oxidation resistant materials, thus identifying the switch contacts. Then, using Ishida's indexes, we're going to find them, and turn them off.' He concluded, with a winning smile.

The wire was detached from the board's edge; in turn, soft, pink sheet of light extended between the sensor and the white circuit pieces that lined the box, forming an airtight, pyramid shaped enclosure above it.

'It will take a moment or two,' Szayel said, as the sensor began whirring softly.

'Nemu says Kurosutchi's switches are normally 'off'', Ishida said.

'How fortunate,' the Arrancar snickered.

'What does that mean?' Unohana asked.

'It means that switches that are off are not currently in use,' the Arrancar explained. 'And that is fortunate because…'

'You only need to focus on those that are 'on'', the woman nodded, looking pleased by the additional knowledge she had gained. 'If they are on, it means they are purposefully so.'

'Correct,' Szayel answered.

'You are quite adept at explaining these things,' Byakuya said. 'Captain Kurosutchi was never so inclined.'

'I do not find that keeping things unnecessarily arcane serves any purpose,' Szayel dryly responded. 'I find that people who jealously guard what they know actually know very little.'

'Were you a professor of kind?' Unohana asked, in a soft and barely audible sotto-voce. Still, the Octava cringed as if he had been slapped, all colour and joy suddenly disappearing from his features.

'No,' he answered, in an unreadable tone.

'You died too young,' the woman gently concluded.

Eyes narrowed behind his glasses, Szayel turned his head to face her.

'No,' he replied, in a voice that warned her not to go too far. 'I simply hate people.'

It was Unohana's turn to recoil, and the silence between them grew cold once more.

'All right, Szayel Aporro.' Ishida's voice broke in, cutting though the tension. 'Components are indexed from left to right, top to bottom, letters for rows, numbers for columns. A 22,' the Quincy prompted.

Szayel Aporro quickly fumbled in his pocket, extracting a small, white and flat screen, with two copper tipped tentacles; he identified the component easily, then carefully traced its interfaces. Once they were found, he carefully brushed all wires aside and placed the two copper tips on the board, on either side of the minuscule electrical device. Keeping one still, he began moving the other one from one embedded wire to another, keeping his gaze eyes locked on the screen in his hand. Each of his movements was accompanies by a dull beep.

'It is off,' he said, once he had run out of combinations. 'Next.'

'B 47,' Ishida replied.

This time, the screen reacted as soon as Szayel Aporro had touched the board. The Arrancar smiled to himself, and, pressing on the side of one of the two wires, he drew a line across one of the wires, cutting the electrical flow. With a light buzz, the projection that covered the wall before them flickered and faded.

'Well done,' Byakuya said. Szayel Aporro did not even nod in acknowledgment.

'Next one, Quincy,' he called.

The work continued for the better part of an hour; the board was filled with components similar to those that had just been deactivated, and, according to Szayel Aporro, it must have been lifted from a far more complicated piece of machinery. Though even Unohana had gotten used to the procedure, and inwardly thought that the repetition would soon have dulled her concentration, the Arrancar's movements did not get faster or slower – he kept his pace and his undivided attention throughout, his hand gestures falling into an automatic, efficient pattern.

He did not even hurry when the final component was deactivated, in spite of the fact that all of his companions' glances had been attracted to the noise of the right hand wall withdrawing into the darkness.

'Hm,' he said, softly. 'This was quite easy.'

Finally losing his patience, Renji did not wait for any further approval or encouragement to head into the darkness of the newly discovered corridor.

'I would not rush, vice-captain Abarai,' Szayel said, adjusting his glasses as he straightened his knees. 'This was somewhat too straightforward…'

Not even turning around, Renji made a rude gesture and continued on his way – he did not get overly far. Unohana's timely intervention pulled him back, just before a thin, cutting sheet of energy that had suddenly emerged from the ceiling, and which had been triggered by his approach, almost sliced him in half – he flew ten feet back through the air, as if he'd been dragged by an invisible rope. He barely had time to realize what was happening to him; Szayel had even less time to dodge. Pulled by the momentum of Unohana's binding kidou, Renji swept the Arrancar off his feet and heavily landed on top of him.

'What…?' Renji managed to mutter, lifting himself on his arms and looking over his shoulder. The rest of the question remained lodged in his throat.

With a terrible noise, the floor of the corridor that he'd been about to enter crashed, disappearing into the darkness of the abyss underneath it. The previously even reiatsu that the walls about them emitted changed flavor, its intensity fluctuating painfully – to make matter worse, another energy guillotine fell somewhere behind them, cutting their path of retreat.

And, just when the floor had finally stopped shaking, making Renji think nothing could possibly get worse, Szayel Aporro's knee connected painfully with his groin, causing him to yelp and curse under his breath. He turned an incredulous glance to the Arrancar that was still trapped underneath him.

'What the hell…' he managed, in a small, strangled voice.

'I understand that I am irresistible,' Szayel purred, though his eyes were shooting lightning. 'but I do not think my frail frame can handle any more of your _crushing _innuendo.'

'Huh?' Renji winced.

'I mean get the bloody hell off me!' Szayel shrieked, and Abarai needed no further encouragement to dart away, cursing profusely.

* * *

Up next - I wouldn't wanna be Hisagi.


	50. End of Winter

Good evening! as is my sad habit when I announce something, tonight we are actually going to see something else...If you want to blame anyone for the chapter, blame Maidros. It's his fault, not mine...erhh...No. I think that since there is a war on, some folks have to die. I had some targets coined for slipping into the great beyond, but then, as I looked at my killable cast, I realized that I am playing favourites. So, I have half-heartedly decided to start the string of deaths with a character I really like.

If at the end of this chapter you are sorry, you're about half as sorry as I am.

Thank you for reading and commenting, it means a lot.

Warning - Characters death and language.

Chapter 50 - Where I really didn't wanna :(

* * *

Hitsugaya Toshirou threw a fast glance in Kira's direction, trying to make out the lieutenant's figure through the dust and rabble that rose and swirled but thirty feet away. He could not, but he could still feel his reiatsu fluctuating dangerously, falling sharply, then rising in an equally sharp manner, as if it had been following the rhythm of the Shinigami's breath. Each time it fell, however, it fell just a minute quantity lower; each time it rose, it failed by little to achieve its previous height.

Kira would not last much longer, Hitsugaya thought, frowning.

'Matsumoto,' he whispered.

It took no more than that for his red-haired lieutenant to understand the unspoken order. Her frame tensed, and she grasped her sword tighter, half turning towards the battle scene behind her, without truly daring to completely take her attention of the opponent they faced. It was not hard for Hitsugaya to imagine what she was thinking – Rangiku was transparent that way; on one hand, she too felt that Kira's struggle, while not yet desperate, was not going well. On the other, she was loathe to leave her captain alone. Usually, this was no more than a manifestation of her almost motherly affection, that Hitsugaya found annoying and touching at the same time. With this particular enemy, however, the young captain found himself wondering if Matsumoto was right, and whether he would, in the end, need all the help that he could possibly get.

'Go, Matsumoto,' he said – this time his voice sounded sharp and commanding, and the woman had had to obey, though she still looked very much doubtful.

She nodded, and fully turned around, her energy gathering as she prepared her Shumpo. The Arrancar sensed it however, and Matsumoto could not take a single step in her intended direction – faster than thought, and leaving no energy trail behind him, the Espada vanished and reappeared between her and the rising swirls of dust that hid Kira from sight.

'I have a mental barrier against hitting ladies,' the Arrancar said, scratching his head.

'Yeh, too bad you ain't got no mental barrier against hitting _on_ ladies!' a childish voice rose from behind him. It had rung half serious, and half amused - yet it had made both Matsumoto and Hitsugaya cringe simultaneously, both at the fact that it belonged to the child they had barely caught a glimpse of earlier, and of the fact that it was perfectly measured, betraying the Arrancar's steady breath and lack of genuine effort.

'Mhmm,' the other Hollow indecisively mumbled. 'Pay attention to what you're doing, not to what I am doing, Lilinette…'

'Piss off!' she snapped – another piece of wall tumbled, and, in the fresh cloud of dust, Kira cursed profusely.

'Ahem,' Stark coughed, his attention once again turning to Matsumoto.

His manner was relaxed – too relaxed, Hitsugaya thought, drawing a deep breath. There was no tension in his posture, and he seemed to be resting his hand on his scimitar's handle rather than preparing to draw it. Nonetheless, despite the fact that his voice betrayed as much detachment as his pose, the Arrancar's gaze was cold and painfully focused, making Hitsugaya realize that Matsumoto's earlier hesitation might well have been Kira's undoing. The Arrancar would not let her reach her companion.

'Normally I am not partial to duels,' Stark drawled. 'But I make an exception in Lilinette's case. I strictly enforce a one opponent at a time rule for her, and my commitment to that particular regulation is by far stronger than my commitment to not hitting ladies.'

Matsumoto frowned, and did not wait for him to finish – she vanished to Shumpo, and, for a second, Hitsugaya felt some amount of relief; it was ill timed.

'Have it your own way,' the Arrancar sighed.

Hitsugaya did not see the Arrancar vanish in his turn, and he barely had time to acknowledge the image of Stark's left arm slipping under Matsumoto's chin and yanking it upwards. The Arrancar had caught her in mid-Shumpo, which should, in itself, have been impossible. Furthermore, his grip on her frame did not seem overly tight – it was just enough to effortlessly restrain her, while the Arrancar drew his sword. Hitsugaya saw no more than the gleam of iron in the sunlight.

When the scimitar's tip came out through the Shinigami lieutenant's chest it was covered in blood and no longer gleaming. The movement had been so fast that Matsumoto had not even had the time to scream.

Stark pulled his arm away from the woman's chin, letting her entire wheight rest on the blade of his sword; casually, as if the gesture had required no strength, he rotated the handle, causing the blade to twist through flesh and bone – Matsumoto's green eyes grew wide, with what looked more like surprise than pain. The Arrancar extended his arm, the force and whipping speed of the motion causing her limp frame to slip off the blade and fly to the side, as if she had had no more wheight than a feather.

Hitsugaya's arms broke her fall; he caught her before she made contact with the stone wall. He held her as tightly as he dared, feeling almost insane relief at the fact that she whimpered, yet the chest of his white cape turned crimson after only a few seconds of holding her. He looked up at the Arrancar that continued to stand between him and Kira with sheer, concentrated hatred.

Stark arched an eyebrow, lazily sheathing his sword.

'You look like you're now about to test my commitment to not hitting children, Captain of the 10th division Hitsugaya Toshirou,' the Primera said, dryly.

Something hissed by Hitsugaya's ear, bouncing off the wall behind him and distracting him. He was now close enough to see what Kira was up against, and he inwardly admired the speed of the lieutenant's parry; the blonde haired Shinigami raised Wabisuke to guard his throat against a small, razor sharp blade, and the force of the impact had sent sparks through the air. The very young girl he was fighting was not slowed, however. She rotated in mid air, gathering the odd appearance of a drill, and brought her other blade down, dragging it across Kira's shoulder – for as brief as it was, her touch seemed to stifle the Shinigami's reiatsu all but completely, and from up close, Hitsugaya could see that Kira's entire chest was covered in similar, superficial cuts. The claw he had parried dissipated, melting into the shimmering layer of energy that covered her skin before reforming again.

That's how, the Captain thought, dazedly and slowly setting Matsumoto down, that was how she evaded Wabisuke's crushing effect. Her weapon was never the same.

In a single, fluid motion, the girl touched the wall before her, turning around like a swimmer on the edge of a pool. Kira's hands were trembling, but he readied his defenses, his reiatsu surging once more – Wabisuke's bowed head missed her by inches. She was just barely out of his reach, and he was just out of hers, as if she had not intended to strike.

The only warning Hitsugaya received before the girl landed in front of him was the sudden gleam in the Espada's eyes; her impossibly strong foot connected squarely with his chin, knocking him back a step. He caught her wrist before her right hand claw could sink into his abdomen, and, with another lightning fast reflex, grabbed her left wrist, stopping the blade an inch from his temple. She scowled – his reaction speed was unexpected, and few except Stark could handle a point blank kick without even blinking.

'What part of _Captain_ did you miss, Lilinette?' Stark scolded.

The girl's rounded, pink eyes narrowed dangerously. She bent her knees, her full wheight suddenly resting in Hitsugaya's hands; the Shinigami instinctively extended his arms, pulling her closer. Nonetheless, Lilinette had the time to draw her knees to her chest and rotate them, propping her heels into his sternum. The force of the push emptied Hitsugaya's lungs of air, but he tightened his grip on her wrists. To no avail – her flesh seemed to dissipate and slip through his fingers, not solid, but malleable and fluid; she set herself free, leaving the young Captain to stare at his empty hands and reflexively shaking his fingers, which felt oddly wet and warm.

Lilinette touched Stark's shoulder, curving her trajectory; she spun around him once before landing behind him, her shoulders glued to his back.

'…kay,' she muttered, in obvious dismay. 'Captain - yours. Got it.'

'Who are you?' Hitsugaya asked, straightening his back.

'Just thought he was kind of my size,' she continued, ignoring his question.

'Captain Hitsugaya asked you a question, Arrancar,' Kira breathed.

'Yo, he asked us a question,' Lilinette snickered, prodding Stark in the ribs with her elbow. 'Ain't ya crushed?'

'Wasn't paying attention,' Stark shrugged. 'Was still stunned by the fact that you went head on at a Captain.' He said, looking over his shoulder to the Fraccion.

'Stuff it.' She interrupted dryly. 'I'm Lilinette,' she laughed, taking a step towards the blonde lieutenant. 'And that's Stark.' She added, carelessly waving her fingers to indicate the Primera. 'He's anally retentive today, so do yourself a favor, little Captain dude,' Lilinette added, peering out from behind the Espada. 'Don't piss him off more than ya have to.'

'What seat do you hold, Espada?' Hitsugaya asked, through his clenched teeth.

'This week?' Lilinette sneered; visibly displeased by her words, Stark frowned.

'It is irrelevant,' he answered.

'Your arrogance is…'Hitsugaya furiously began.

'…completely justified,' Stark sighed in response. He briefly nodded at his Fraccion; she laughed and jumped, using his shoulders as spring board. Kira had not expected the move; though he angled his sword, the child's lean frame twisted in the air, slipping under the inner side of the blade's angle. Her arms opened, as if to embrace him, and her blades sunk into his flesh, finding the tiny space between his ribs. Rather than pushing forth, however, she rotated downwards, yanking her claws from his body. She slipped under between his legs and stood up behind him, forcing him to turn painstakingly turn.

Kira made no sound as he attacked in his turn, and though she met Wabisuke with her crossed forearms, Lilinette was pushed a several feet back, taking a portion of wall with her. The blonde Shinigami took advantage of the opening and jumped forth, leaving a crimson mist in the wake of his Shumpo, and yet again disappearing from sight.

Hitsugaya brought his sword to the ready; from the distance, it looked as if the Arrancar had sighed before vanishing in is turn.

He reappeared in the tiny space between the Captain of the 10th and the wall behind him; decided fingers latched on to the back of Hitsugaya's skull, tossing him upwards with no perceptible effort. Oddly enough, though, it had not felt as if the motion had been intended to harm; judging by its strength, as well as by the unpleasant, crippling chill that had descended on the young captain's spine at the contact with the Hollow's fingers, the Arrancar would have been quite capable of crushing Hitsugaya's skull – he hadn't. He'd simply tossed him upwards, and away from Matsumoto's bleeding body.

The Shinigami redressed himself, lingering in mid air as the Espada slowly drifted upwards on his trail.

'I did not kill her,' Stark said, slowly and clearly. 'I missed her heart and avoided all major blood vessels. She should, however, have a punctured lung. If you take her back to the Sereitei now, she will be all right. If you let her bleed for another half an hour, she will not.'

Hitsugaya clenched his teeth; for as much as he hated to admit it, he understood that the Espada was right. Claws of ice and fury gripped and tore at his heart at the impossible choice. There was nothing he would have liked to do more than take Matsumoto to safety, yet he could not turn his back on the tower that maintained Karakura town in Soul Society – he could not afford to lose sight of it for even a few minutes. He sensed that with each shallow cut that the Fraccion inflicted, Kira grew weaker and that Ayasegawa's reiatsu had almost completely disappeared, just as he was painfully aware of the fact that below, Matsumoto was slowly slipping away. And above all, he was maddeningly aware of this Arrancar's reiatsu, which surrounded him like a wet, stifling shroud.

Though his hands trembled on Hyoruimaru's hilt, he held firm.

'Suit yourself,' the Espada shrugged.

'Bankai,' Hitsugaya whispered in return.

Stark lifted his forearm, protecting his eyes from the cutting storm of ice particles that suddenly filled the air, gathering in solid shape around the young Shinigami's body. It was impressive, he thought, as he watched the translucent dragon wings stretch and expand – the surge of Hitsugaya's reiatsu was painfully powerful, but its solid form was far beneath it, pointedly reminding the Espada of Lilinette's resurrection. A not yet fulfilled promise, for one who had come far, but still had a long way to go.

It was this very thought that stopped him from immediately attacking.

'You must feel that you cannot defeat me, Hitsugaya Toshirou.' Stark said. 'Do not force me to break my own rules and say things _twice._ Take your lieutenant and return to your group. This tower is mine.'

'Regardless of how many shall fall, you and your kind will not triumph this day' Hitsugaya returned, in a low hiss, 'Aizen's treachery will not go unpunished, nor will his unforgiveable meddling in the balance of the energy flow. If you think I will accept your offer, Hollow, you sorely underestimate my commitment.'

Stark's eyes narrowed.

_A little Shinigami, but a Shinigami nonetheless._

'It looks as if in extending the offer, I am vastly overestimating your intelligence,' he dryly responded.

He vanished; the next indication of his position was a Cero. The mere shockwave of the explosion forced Hitsugaya to completely seal his wings about himself, but, even as the ice sphere that enveloped him rolled through the air, the dragon's tail furiously whipped forth, aimed at the Arrancar's chest. Stark simply shifted his wheight to the side, allowing the Cero to distract the enemy; the ice spear stabbed through the air, missing him by almost a foot, and the Arrancar wasted no time in solidifying his Hierro, causing the ice to crack, then break under tremendous pressure. He did not loosen his grasp, however – suddenly fluid, the white, bone white substance that formed his shield began creeping upwards, over the ice and splitting it along its length.

Realizing that he had been caught, and that each second he spent in contact with the Espada's defenses harmed him, Hitsugaya shook himself free, painfully ripping off a significant portion of the ice dragon's tail. He opened his wings, bringing his sword to the ready – though he still could not catch any glimpse of the Espada's movements, he had now come to intuit what his opponent would do – Hyoruimaru came up in perfect sequence to catch Stark's scimitar and deflect it to the side. The Espada had clearly underestimated his opponent's speed and not expected the blow to be parried – Hitsugaya brought the dragon's wings closer, wincing at contact with Stark's scimitar, but allowed the blade to slip through the ice.

The Primera frowned slightly, his hesitation allowing Hitsugaya to complete his intention. Implacable and cutting, the deceivingly yielding ice solidified, trapping the Espada's wrist. The ice spear reformed, just as the Shinigami shifted his wheight to the side, pulling Stark's arm even further out; with tremendous force, the gleaming tip of the dragon's tail crushed against the exposed left side of Stark's chest.

The Arrancar winced, and though Hitsugaya felt a brief surge of triumph, all his hopes were ill placed – sweeping across his skin, and making him feel as if he had been enveloped in a mass of cold, writhing snakes, Stark's reiatsu rose to block the blow. It was impossible, the Shinigami thought, clenching his teeth and driving more of his own energy into the attack – impossible…the sheer mass of reiatsu, the pure hatred and evil it radiated…

The spear's tip split, inches above the Arrancar's side, ripping his tunic but not touching his flesh; a gigantic, round and almost beautiful dome of cutting ice shards blossomed outwards as the force of the Shinigami's blow pushed against the impossibly solid barrier, wave after wave of water breaking upon the Hierro and freezing immediately after.

Hitsugaya's features broke into a smile.

Too fast for the eye to catch, he rotated his sword forward, in a heavy horizontal slash. He'd guessed well – the entirety of Stark's energy was concentrated on repelling the tail's attack, and his right side was entirely unprotected. Dark blood splattered against the still fresh crimson on the captain's cape, and a thick, deep cut stretched across the Espada's chest.

Stark laughed, and, against all logic, inched closer.

'You're a smart little kid,' the Primera said, without spite. 'Intelligent distraction tactic.'

Hitsugaya frowned; with a slow, lazy gesture, the Arrancar ran his gloved left hand over his chest. Dark tongues of energy flicked from the edges of the wound, pulling them together, then shut.

'What…' The Shinigami whispered.

'Sadly,' Stark said, in an equally lazy tone, 'smart is not enough against me _this week_.'

He pulled away – a mere step, then jerked his trapped arm to the side, not leaving Hitsugaya time to understand, let alone prevent his intention. The tremendous force and speed of the turn caught him completely by surprise, and, even if it had not, the Shinigami could not have freed Stark's arm in time. With the strength of his own grasp trapping him more than it trapped the Arrancar, Hitsugaya saw the world fade to a spinning blur. He pushed Hyoruimaru's tip forward, blindly, but the size of his body placed him at a tremendous disadvantage; even with his arm fully extended, he could not cover the distance between himself and the Arrancar, who had a far larger arm span. The sword's tip hissed helplessly past Stark's chest; it was the last move Hitsugaya could manage before the outwards pull of the spin forced his sword arm to extend. He felt his fingers slipping over Hyoruimaru's hilt and closed his eyes, holding on for dear life – yet, despite his fierce concentration, and despite the fact that the fact that he felt completely nauseated, the Shinigami realized that he was not afraid of the spin itself, but rather of the fact that it would abruptly stop.

It did.

All the gathered energy – his wheight, the wheight of his wings and the tremendous speed of the rotation concentrated into a single point. By all logic, the Arrancar's sword arm should have snapped like a twig. It didn't. Instead, Hitsugaya's right wing was torn clearly off his back, remaining attached to Stark's arm as inertia flung the young captain far to the side. The pain was unlike anything the Shinigami had ever experienced, and along with it, paralyzing weakness crept along his spine, seeping into his bone marrow – the ice flower above his head shattered completely, and Hitsugaya felt that a century must have passed between the moment when the world had finally stopped spinning around him, and the moment he heard himself grunt in pain.

A wave of dark crimson descended to cloud his sight and his breath came out in short, labored gasps. The entire right side of his body felt limp, blood seeping through his clothes and drizzling hotly over the ice sword's hilt. Simply regaining focus felt like a tremendous victory; maintaining balance felt like winning a war. Blue gaze clouded with torturous pain and incomprehension, he looked up at the Arrancar.

The ice around Stark's arm slowly dissolved, shining particles scattering across the sky and glittering mesmerizingly in the sunshine. The Espada closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and extending his left hand to catch one of the frail crystals. He dreamily glanced at the delicate pattern; for the second that it took for the ice to melt and be absorbed by his glove, it felt as if the snowflake had been more important than anything else, and as if Hitsugaya himself had slipped out of existence.

_Winter. I had forgotten it smells so good._

He looked at the young Shinigami captain, who had had to prop himself down on one knee to keep from fully collapsing, but did not advance. Instead, he extended his left arm to the side, allowing Lilinette to grab hold of it and stop.

'You done?' he asked, looking down at the girl.

'Yup,' she said, meeting his glance. 'And no, I didn't,' she added, as his gaze grew questioning. 'But he ain't getting up,' Lilinette rebelliously muttered, preempting his next words. 'There ain't an inch of him that ain't cut. He ain't getting up.'

Stark's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

'Do you want to go and help Findor?' he inquired again. 'I smell his Shinigami has just released in Shikai form.'

The little girl frowned, her gaze briefly turning to Hitsugaya.

'You don't want me to see…' she said, softly.

He nodded, without waiting for her to finish.

'No, I don't. I'll be there in a moment,' he reassuringly whispered.

Lilinette looked at him, her large eyes loaded with reproach, but it was her turn to remain silent; she disappeared without a further word.

Gathering the tattered remains of his strength, Hitsugaya stood. His sword's hilt was slipping from his fingers, and the tips of his single wing had dulled, melting away with each passing moment.

Nonetheless, he clenched his teeth and angled Hyoruimaru to defend. It was only strength of will that kept him standing, Stark thought, feeling a familiar tingle creeping though the right fingers of his hand and closing about his wrist like the long lost burning ring of his talisman. Reacting to the hatred he sought to repress, the blade of his sword darkened, its edges losing precision, and to the Shinigami's unfocused glance, it simply looked as if the Espada had been holding a flame.

'You are the first seat,' Hitsugaya breathed. 'You are the Primera.'

Stark nodded.

Sheer resolve seemed to course through the Shinigami's frame, causing it to completely straighten and stiffen.

'Then,' he whispered, 'I cannot let you defeat me…'

'Do you hear yourself talking, kid?' Stark sighed. 'If I sneeze your way, you're dead. What's there left of you to defeat?'

'Plenty. I will not stand away from your path until you have taken every last drop of blood in my body. I will not let Aizen triumph. I'm ready,' Hitsugaya said, dryly, even taking a minute and trembling step forward. 'Is that not why you sent your second seat away?' he asked, defiantly raising his chin. 'So she would not see you kill me?'

The Arrancar threw his head back and laughed; the two rows of fangs beneath his lower jaw laughed with him, the bones crackling dryly and disgustingly as they hit against each other – and indeed, Stark thought, bringing his sword up and moving forward, there was plenty to laugh about. The driving force of the entire Universe must have been irony.

What else could it have been? He wondered, brushing the Shinigami's frail arm to the side and grabbing the child prodigy of the Gotei by the throat. What else could it _possibly_ have been?

'You think I sent her away so she does not see me kill you?' he hissed. 'You are very wrong, Captain Hitsugaya Toushirou,' Stark whispered, with as much fury and pain in his voice as if he had been tearing the words off from his very flesh. 'Though nothing,' he said, 'nothing would give me more pleasure than snapping your puny neck. You cannot imagine how long I have dreamt of this moment – of facing one of you, _all _of you, and taking your unbearable, overbearing arrogance down to the puny level of your strengths. But that is, sadly, not why I sent Lilinette away.'

He drew the young Shinigami close enough to whisper in his ear.

'I sent her away so she does not see that I _purposefully_ left you alive. It could be used against her, and that is not what I want.'

Hitsugaya's eyes widened at the words.

'It is not that I do not want you dead, little Shinigami,' Stark continued. 'I do – but I do not want to kill you myself. I want you to die at the hands of your own treacherous kind – that's why I came out fighting; because I want to draw _your_ traitors out behind me. So that you can all kill each other, in your neat little duels, and so that, in the end, none of you are a threat to me and mine. Not ever again.'

In response, and with his last shred of strength, Hitsugaya pressed his sword through the Arrancar's chest, then, in true horror, watched Stark slowly shaking his head.

'Intention appreciated,' The Primera drawled. 'But not even that is enough anymore.'

He extended his arm – Hyoruimaru slipped clear of his flesh, inch after torturous inch, and as soon as the Arrancar's body no longer held the blade up, Hitsugaya's hand fell limply to his side.

'Stay down,' Stark advised, holding the Shinigami's frame at an arm's length. 'Gran Rey…'

It was not the pain that interrupted his concentration and made him loosen his grip; it was the surprise. The tendons of his left arm suddenly snapped loose, muscles abruptly severed from the joints, his fingers unwillingly letting go of Hitsugaya's throat. To his credit, the boy maintained his shaky balance and painstakingly drifted back.

'Matsumoto,' he whispered.

She had no strength to respond; blood drenched and pale as wax, her sword in the wrong hand, she simply clenched her teeth.

'Growl, Haineko,' she shakily breathed – her blade melted away, leaving naught but a cloud of ash in its wake.

The ashes assaulted Stark's face and chest, leaving one minute, painful scratch on top of the other, but drawing no more than a droplet of blood before the wounds re-sealed; he looked at the woman before him, amusedly shaking his head. He shook his right hand free of the glove and simply held it out; to Matsumoto's horror, the ash cloud stopped whirring about his features. Instead, taking the shape of a miniature whirlwind, the particles settled above his open palm.

She cringed with effort, but her control over her shikai was gone; all that her last, desperate attempt achieved was to make the grey whirlwind sway.

Within a few more seconds, the ash had turned bright blue, and, as the obedient particles drifted into the Primera's skin, and muscles of his left arm once more stretched along the bone, Hitsugaya's blue eyes briefly regained focus.

'Quincy,' he whispered. 'You are a Quincy.'

'Yes,' Stark growled, darkness growing around him and within him. 'I was. Gran Rey Cero.'

White flashed before his eyes in the split second before his Cero burst forth. He frowned, cautiously drifting back thirty feet, allowing the unleashed tentacles of his reiatsu to engulf Hitsugaya, and viciously lap up the remnants of the Shinigami's Bankai.

The woman was gone. She'd been taken away from his Cero's path just in time to avoid being consumed by it. The darkness melted away from Hitsugaya's body; burned, and bruised, his wings torn from his bloodied body, the Shinigami captain still stood. For a second longer.

In spite of the fact that he had not put his full strength behind his Cero, and that he was aware the _other_ must have sensed it as well, Stark bowed his head, and allowed himself a vicious, triumphant grin.

'Shoot to kill, Shinsou,' came the implacable command. The Zanpakutoh's tip made contact with Hitsugaya's flesh just beneath his skin, and emerged through the back of his skull.

Shinsou's blade retracted, letting the lifeless body fall to the ground; the woman in Gin's arms didn't seem to register the blow. She simply looked up, and, as soon as she recognized the familiar face of the man who had yet again saved her life, she began weeping quietly, her hands trembling on his shoulders. With tenderness that Stark found incomprehensible, Gin ran his fingers through her hair, pressing her forehead to his shoulder. She tried to push away, for a single second before her entire strength failed.

'I've got ya, Ran-chan,' Ichimaru Gin whispered, in a voice Stark had never heard before. 'I've got ya,' he repeated.

He was not smiling, and the joints of his fingers had grown white from the despair with which he gripped her.

* * *

Up next - Orihime gets rescued and Szayel Aporro gets a headache. Or is it the other way round? ohye...


	51. The Colour Purple

Evening :) And thank you all for reading and commenting - as usual, thank Maidros for putting up with me :) And, as revenge for him insisting that I do away with Shiro-kun (sniffle), the killing spree continues tonight...with his own personal choice of favourite character. Trust me, if you knew him, you'd find this at least as odd as I do...I kiid, I kiid. But this has been coming a long time now. :)

Chapter 51 - Where Orihime is saved! (I oughta...)

* * *

Neliel Tu stood shakily. Her left leg had fallen asleep, and each minute muscle movement felt awkward and slowed. Just like her mind, Neliel thought, taking a step to the side, and forcing blood to run through her thigh.

If only prompting her mind back into action were so easy…

Without Ichigo in the room, and without the comforting knowledge that Stark's distant but always attentive presence was somewhere behind her, Neliel felt utterly lost and alone. The feeling was not in the least diminished by the alien and sterile surroundings, or by the hauntingly disgusting display of preserved body parts that lined the laboratory wall, in the cupboard before her. One would have to wonder, she thought, slightly cranking her nose, when Szayel Aporro had had time to amass such a collection, and why he had kept the things once their use had been exhausted. If they had ever had any use in the first place, other than satisfying the Octava's passion for the morbid.

But then, the former Tercera reminded herself, it was quite easy to wrongfully blame many things about Szayel Aporro on his insanity. So easy, in fact, that it blinded most people to the fact that Szayel rarely ever did anything meaningless. There was always something deeply threatening lurking behind his masks – the mask of his cruelty, which fooled most, the mask of his wanton sexuality, which had fooled Cirucci, and then, perhaps most dangerously, the mask of charm and helplessness that he displayed to fool the people he thought most dangerous.

And indeed, the Octava's many faces served him well; if one already thought he was a sadistic maniac, one felt little inclined to delve deeper into his motives for doing anything. Neliel pointedly remembered that in the distant time when he was no more than Cirucci's pretty plaything, Szayel's initial collection of dead Arrancar body parts had left many completely perplexed. Rumor had it that he ate most of them, which, even to Hollows, was oddly repelling – there was no need to scavenge when the supply of weak Adjuchas was plentiful. Whatever was left of the Arrancar's newly awoken humanity had made all of them look away in disgust. When they had looked to Szayel once more, he'd already been in possession of his very own army.

She looked to Lumina and Verona, who were standing behind the Quincy, in tense attention.

The frail little Vasto Lorde who hadn't had time to build up a Hollow colony had simply _made_ himself one – a colony that comprised intelligent things and strong things alike, things whose loyalty could never be doubted, and, most importantly of all, things that were immortal, just like their maker. Unlike the others, for whom the loss of an important Fraccion was a blow, Szayel could endlessly recreate any of his subordinates, and probably overwhelm any other group by sheer persistence and numbers. And none of them, with Aizen's notable exception, had seen it coming.

Just like she had not seen it coming.

But now, Neliel thought, stepping up behind the Quincy, she did.

The fact that Abarai Renji had triggered a trap he had been repeatedly warned about should have sent Szayel Aporro Granz into a hysterical fit. While in his element, the Octava had no patience for other people's mistakes; the fact that his reaction to Abarai's misstep had consisted of nothing more than a few scalding remarks was deeply concerning, on a level that Neliel could not quite place.

'I don't like this,' she said, to no one in particular.

Ishida momentarily turned away from the panels and scrutinized her attentively.

'What is wrong, Nel?' he asked. 'They got themselves in a bit of trouble, but I am sure that once Szayel Aporro opens the door, they will be perfectly safe again.'

'That's exactly what's wrong,' Neliel returned dryly. 'Szayel Aporro is making himself very useful.'

The archer frowned – the image of Szayel's hasty dismissal of the little green light surfaced pointedly in his mind. After a second of consideration, he reached across the board to cut off the sound system – Lumina and Verona reacted in perfect synchronicity.

'Do not do that, Quincy specimen Ishida Uryu,' the Fracciones said in a single voice. Though their words had carried no particular intonation, they had both inched menacingly closer.

'Do what?' Szayel's voice crept out of the amplifiers.

'Cut the sound uplink.' Verona clarified.

'That is not nice,' Lumina added.

'Not nice at all,' Szayel Aporro agreeably said. 'If you'd like to have a small private interlude with Nemu-chan, you will be perfectly free to do so when I am _not_ standing in thin air trying to figure out a very complex locking system. She is not going anywhere, anyway.' He concluded – the Quincy did not miss the threatening undertone, and clenched his teeth.

He threw a sideway glance at Rukia; in her turn, Rukia threw a questioning glance in Nel's direction, then shrugged, indicating that she too thought the moment was ill-picked.

'Later,' the Shinigami quietly mouthed.

Neliel Tu bit her lower lip and nodded.

'How are you progressing?' Ishida asked, switching topics.

'Steadily,' came the dry answer, in Byakuya's voice.

'He means slowly,' Renji rebelliously muttered.

'I would not speak, if I was you, Abarai-kun,' Szayel responded sweetly. 'If you cannot stop our jaws from chattering, please place your hands over your mouth…that should keep your most dangerous body parts busy. It is, after all, your fault that I have to waste concentration on levitating – one can only wonder at how many times you'd fall for the exact same trap…Yet, I am done,' the Arrancar gleefully informed.

A light, mechanical hiss followed, reinforcing his words.

'Excellent,' Ishida said, once more focusing on the screen. The glowing gridline had died away. 'The reiatsu generator around you seems to be down.'

'It is,' Unohana agreed. 'We can actually feel our surroundings now.'

'Hm,' Szayel said. 'This device certainly deserves further investigation,' he began, with growing excitement. 'Correct me if I am wrong, Quincy, but the gridline was simply the iron resistance structure of the walls.'

'How would I see that?' Ishida asked.

Without waiting for Szayel's prompt, Lumina reached over his shoulder and activated a secondary screen. For a moment, it was blank, but then, at amazing speed, a three dimensional view of Las Noches appeared. Unfocused at first, the image began gaining definition with each passing second. When it was complete, the stone faded away, revealing the far stronger metal structure that lied underneath. Portions of it were glowing black, pointedly showing that the sections they sustained were known and verified. As the image zoomed in to an unclear portion of the city, red lines started growing from the black, filling the gaps.

'Is it calculating in real time?' Ishida gasped.

'What is it doing?' Rukia inquired, taking a step closer.

'I think it's determining where the resistance structure of the walls in this section should be, given what he knows about the other resistance structures in Las Noches,' the Quincy answered.

'Correct, Quincy specimen Ishida Uryu,' Lumina merrily agreed. 'I coded this,' it added, in a low but momentously proud whisper.

'Let's not forget who wrote the calculations,' Szayel melodiously intervened.

'You did, Szayel Aporro-sama!' Lumina exclaimed, in adoration. 'Algorithms are for geniuses, coding is for monkeys,' it added, then nodded in agreement to itself. 'Szayel Aporro-sama _always_ says that,' it clarified.

'That's because he is not good at it,' Ishida murmured; Lumina and Verona looked horrified.

'Nonsense,' the Octava snapped. 'I am just not inclined to waste my time on re-writing something I've already written…So! Was I correct?'

'You were,' Ishida answered. 'The grid structure is the same as the resistance structure. That's…'

'That is very intelligent of Ichimaru Gin,' Szayel said thoughtfully – though his voice had been flat, Ishida could almost hear the physical whirring of his mind.

'Ichimaru Gin is no fool,' Byakuya said.

'No, he is not,' Szayel replied, somewhat stingily. 'But, regardless of how well he's made use of everything on hand, we're now through. The control panel of the door is active, and…'

Ishida frowned, leaning forward ever so slightly, looking away from the secondary screen, and attentively focusing on the reiatsu readings.

'There's something behind the door,' he said.

He sighed before Szayel Aporro had had time to respond, feeling somewhat disturbed by the fact he had already guessed the answer.

'Indeed,' Szayel's voice had purred from the amplifiers. 'That's why people normally have doors, Ishida-kun…So that they put things behind them. In this case, a tremendous amount of machinery that I have never had the opportunity of playing with – if you will excuse the simile, I feel like a virgin standing in the door of a brothel.'

'That is not what I meant, Szayel Aporro,' Ishida responded, in as dry a voice as he could. 'I mean there is someone behind the door.'

'Eh?' the Arrancar muttered, in dismay. 'I don't feel anything.'

'Nor do I,' Unohana added. 'Are you sure?'

'Yes,' Ishida said. 'I see a pink dot…'

'That's me,' Szayel sighed, in exasperation.

'No, it is not _you_, Szayel Aporro,' the Quincy patiently reiterated. 'I filtered you out.'

'You did _what?'_ the Arrancar shrieked, so loudly that all in the laboratory covered their ears.

'I filtered you out,' Ishida repeated, stretching each word. 'I still see captain Kuchiki and Captain Unohana – your machine does not have them saved as variables so I couldn't easily single them out, but you and Abarai should definitely not be showing up on the readings anymore.'

'I am finding this annoying, frightening and sexy, all at the same time,' Szayel purred. 'There is definitely promise to your _anything_, Ishida-kun.'

The archer cringed.

'You give me the creeps,' Renji muttered.

'Nonetheless, you must have done something wrong,' Szayel continued, ignoring Renji. 'All of the reiatsu are color coded – and I am the only pink one.'

'Yes,' Rukia said, 'maybe. But that's not pink.'

'What color is it, Kuchiki Rukia?' the Arrancar sweetly asked. 'I always found that men – myself aside, of course - are all but blind to nuance variations; women are far more receptive to them. It has to do with sensitivity and artistic taste…'

'I do like drawing,' Rukia said, blushing unexplainably.

'Now that I look at it,' Ishida shrugged, 'it does look sort of…more purple…'

'Yet again, the precision of your descriptions is almost painful to absorb,' the Arrancar sneered. 'Still, we cannot feel any reiatsu coming from behind the door. I think you're seeing me and some influence of captain Kuchiki, Ishida Uryu. Would explain the purple…Also,' he snickered, 'if you think I fully keyed myself into the reiatsu suppressor variable set, you are sadly mistaken.'

'Eeeh,' Ishida sighed in defeat, 'makes sense… you wouldn't want your toys to be used against you.'

'Of course not,' Szayel chuckled.

'Ok, then,' the Quincy surrendered. 'Open the door.'

The mechanical hiss repeated; at the same time, Rukia's eyes widened in triumph.

'I know what nuance it is,' she suddenly exclaimed. 'It's not pink, it's mauve!'

'Shit!' Szayel exclaimed.

The last thing that came through the amplifiers before the powerful sound of an explosion was an odd, distant and disarticulate _Waaaa-ahhh!_

Scene Break

Yammy looked up a split second before Orihime did, his small eyes narrowed in concentration. No sound had broken the silence, yet, the texture of the air had suddenly changed. It felt rich, heavy with loose and agitated reiatsu particles.

In spite of the fact that they both sensed it, they neither spoke nor moved; Orihime's eyes remained fixed on the giant's back and shoulders, her entire frame growing stiff with dread and expectation. Yet, there was no tension, not even the intention of movement.

_Is he really not going to…_

'I know they're coming,' Yammy said, as if Orihime's concentrated stare had had the power of transmitting her thoughts.

He looked up to the tall ceiling, the gigantic pillars guiding his gaze towards the top.

'I know they're coming,' he echoed, for his own sake.

The turmoil in his broken reiatsu was so great that, for a moment, the sensation of the approaching presences was completely drowned, and Orihime felt overwhelmed by the desire of doing something, anything, that would give the Decima some sort of comfort. She barely knew the Arrancar – she'd seldom seen him, after that initial encounter in the human world, and she had almost never seen him without Ulquiorra. But she understood his hesitation well enough.

Once he complied with Aizen's order, his own use would be exhausted. In a sense, Orihime thought, he'd be as dead as she was; whatever had occurred to him, his reiatsu felt genuinely broken and uncontrolled, lashing and writhing in a way that pointedly reminded Orihime of Neliel and her cracked mask. He clearly could not fight – neither Ichigo and Grimmjow, nor anyone else.

'I don't know what I should do, Inoue Orihime.' the giant said. The words had been uttered mechanically, with no hint of powerful confusion. It had simply sounded as if Yammy had been wondering whether the corridor that led to his tower was left or right. 'Without Ulquiorra to tell me, it's _muy difficil_. You know,' he said, in an equally blank tone, 'Aizen-sama never really talked to me before, or at least not directly. He talked to Ulquiorra and Ulquiorra told me what Aizen-sama really wanted me to do.'

Despite her best instinct, the girl stood and took a tentative step in his direction.

'Only he's not here to tell me now, Inoue Orihime.'

This time, his voice had been charged with so much hatred that Orihime had felt her entire body vibrate.

'Yammy-sama…' she began, softly.

'I have to guess,' he growled. 'And I'm not good at guessing. Not good at all.'

He finally turned, fleshy brows furiously knit over the small, glowing eyes.

'Ulquiorra didn't want you to die, Inoue Orihime,' the Decima said. 'But he would have killed you anyway.'

'No,' Orihime whispered, more out of eagerness to contradict him than out of fear. 'He wouldn't have – in the end, he wouldn't have. I know it.'

'I don't,' Yammy said, briskly.

Still, he did not move, nor reached for her. He simply stared at her as Ichigo's reiatsu grew ever closer.

'Lilinette broke my resurrection, Inoue Orihime,' the Decima followed. 'She's very dangerous. Though she's a little one. Funny how little things can be dangerous like that,' he added, once again looking away from her. 'Just like you. Just like Ulquiorra. Dangerous little things.'

'Aizen-sama left you here to die, didn't he?' the girl breathed.

He shrugged.

'Yeah, I guess,' he said. 'And whether I kill you or not doesn't really matter to me; if I do as I was told and kill you, your friends will kill me in turn. If I don't, they'll kill me anyway, because I can't fight them. Not really, not anymore. I'll try, anyhow.'

'But why, Yammy-sama?' Orihime asked, taking a wide step forward. 'Why would Aizen ask this of you, if he knows you cannot fight? Why would you even try, if you already know…?'

His eyes narrowed menacingly, warning her not to come closer, and her words remained lodged in her throat, caught not by fear, but with the same tremendous sentiment of pity that always gripped her heart in Ulquiorra's presence. He'd do what he'd been told. The reasoning mattered little.

'There has to be another way,' she whispered. 'You don't have to die.'

'Don't you mean I don't have to kill you, _amiga?'_ the Decima laughed.

'I mean you don't have to die,' she repeated.

The door to the tower was slammed against the wall, cutting her protest off; Yammy stood, flinging Orihime back with a single swipe of his left arm. He brought his right up just in time to block Zangetsu's blade, the metal sinking an inch into his flesh before he brushed Ichigo aside.

'Kurosaki-kun!' Orihime cried, struggling to her feet. Her warning was not needed.

Ichigo rolled out of the way of Yammy's jump just in time; the floor cracked and dented under the Decima's weight, causing the pillars to shake menacingly. Yammy wasted no time in spinning about, however, and, had Pantera's blade not interceded, his Barra would have found true aim.

'Ya just don't know when to give up, do ya, Yammy,' Grimmjow sighed.

He sprung forward, the blade gleaming at his side, and landed on one knee in front of the Decima. He looked up, giving himself time to grin viciously before jumping between Yammy's arms, no more than a ray of blue lightning stretching towards the ceiling.

The Decima sought to parry, bringing his giant arms across his chest, but he'd misread Grimmjow's intention. The unannounced Gran Rey Cero did not burst forth when Grimmjow was at the height of Yammy's chest, but rather when he was already several feet above the giant. The Decima looked up, staring into the blue energy ray, and knowing he did not have enough time to get out of its path – the shield stretched above him long before he actually heard Orihime calling it forth, and the Cero broke upon it, scalding tongues writhing but inches in front of his eyes.

'Oh, brother,' Grimmjow muttered.

He flipped backwards and stood, with a deep sigh.

'Yo, Kurosaki,' he muttered. 'Your chick here don't look like she wants to be saved, dude.'

He barely had time to finish the phrase, and Ichigo did not even register the build-up of the Barra; the human had darted towards Orihime, concentrating on assessing whether she was alright or not. The sound of the explosion caught him completely by surprise – he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her away from the crumbling pieces of stone.

Yammy's seemingly directionless Barra had reached its aim – the ceiling had not crumbled. Parts of it had been shaken off, but its massive structure had remained in place. Though they yet again shook, the pillars remained standing as well, and it took Ichigo half a second to understand that the explosion had been targeted at the doorway, and at the corridor that lay beyond it.

A fleeting concern about Kenpachi and Isane's safety crossed Ichigo's mind, but it was dismissed as quickly as it had surfaced. The captain of the 11th had stayed behind on the surface, fighting his way through the sea of Exequias, with a wide, climactic grin on his face, leaving a hyper-excited Yachiru in Isane's arms. The most that could have happened to them was that the floor beneath their feet had crumbled, yet that was nothing that could stop Kenpachi or even pose a minor threat.

It was the thought of the massive stone structure that they had just crossed that made Ichigo cringe. The corridor that led to the main chamber of the fifth tower was carved underneath tens of feet of rock, a mere vein of air and light under oppressive tones of stone. With Yammy's strike, all of the structure above it had caved, ceiling and arches breaking like twigs and allowing the platform above to seal the tunnel shut.

'What the fuck?' Grimmjow growled, at the same time. 'Watcha pullin', Yammy? Plannin' on burying yourself alive?'

'No,' the Decima spat in response, a look of terrifying satisfaction sprawled on his features. 'I'm planning on burying you alive, _traidor_,' he hissed. 'Just you.'

'Yammy,' Orihime whispered, in sudden comprehension.

'That's right,' the giant laughed, straightening his back, and not taking his eyes off Grimmjow. 'That's bloody right. No matter what Aizen-sama says, I doesn't matter anymore. He left me,' he grunted, 'so it doesn't matter. It's not you I want to kill Inoue Orihime, it's Grimmjow…You,' he heaved, his entire body tensing, 'you, Sexta Espada…I knew you'd come to get her, just like you got her before. You made _him_ go after you, you made him lose his spirit, his strength…You killed Ulquiorra, and if it's the last thing I do, I'm going to…'

'He didn't kill Ulquiorra,' Ichigo said, eager to placate him, but nonetheless clasping Orihime closer. 'Stark did. Stark, who's back on your side, now.'

The giant's small, dull eyes turned on him, his gaze matching his Barra in intensity.

'But I can't reach Stark, can I?' Yammy laughed – without warning, he lashed to the side, his fingers clenching around Grimmjow's throat. 'Can't reach him, but I can sure reach you, Sexta. And you're sure as hell good enough, cuz you helped him…'

Tremendous tension caused Yammy's brow to furrow, his roughly cut features glistening with sweat from the effort he posed against the Sexta's windpipe. Yet, though his hand was large enough to fully grip Grimmjow's neck from chin to collarbone, and though his fingers had already begun to spread dark marks over the blue haired Arrancar's skin, Grimmjow laughed.

'Well, well,' he said, his voice not even trembling. 'Ain't ya a faithful puppy!'

Implacable fingers gripped Yammy's wrist; as if the difference in their sizes had been reversed in his favor, Grimmjow easily dislodged the Decima's hand from his throat, and jerked the giant forward. At the same time, he lowered himself, bringing his left leg in a wide horizontal arch, and sweeping Yammy off his feet. He didn't let go of the giant's arm – instead, he pulled it over his bowed head and shoulders, causing the Decima to tumble helplessly over his back. Yammy had barely struck the floor when Grimmjow spun on himself, his movement no more than faint light across Pantera's sharp edge.

'Stop it,' Orihime cried, struggling against Ichigo's arm.

Pantera lodged a foot into the floor, as Yammy rolled to the side and stood. His Barra hissed past Grimmjow's ear, exploding behind. As if carried by the blow of the explosion, Grimmjow gracefully drifted forth, Pantera stretched along his forearm, and roaring fire drowning out his laughter.

Yammy dodged, his fist connecting squarely with the Sexta's spine; Grimmjow curled on himself before he hit the floor, twisting his sword's handle between his fingers and slashing viciously against the Decima's chest.

'Kurosaki-kun, tell him to stop!' Orihime shouted again.

The Decima's fist swept Grimmjow backwards, and sent him flying into the wall; the Sexta simply wiped his broken lip with the back of his hand, and took a step forward.

'Boy, Yammy, you're really pissed!' he chuckled; Pantera sunk into Yammy's forearm. Yammy's Cero cut a circular pattern, somewhere far above. 'What I don't get tho',' the Sexta continued, 'is why you're pissed at me, dude!'

He let the sword hand to the side, allowing a few droplets of blood to slide along its edge and onto the floor.

'If I was you,' Grimmjow sneered, swiping the sword up, to lean it on his shoulder, 'I'd be pissed at her.'

The blade whipped to the side, splattering darkness over Orihime's white dress.

'Grimmjow,' Ichigo began, in a low snarl.

'It's true, Kurosaki,' the Sexta shrugged, with a predatory grin. 'Wasn't me who made ol' ice-block lose his cool. It was your woman here that did it, an' she succeeded without even really tryin'. An' I was truly…genuinely…'

His canines gleamed.

'…grateful,' he breathed, before his Cero exploded into the darkness.

Yammy evaded, but his movement was too slow; the energy caught his left arm, burning into his flesh. He instinctively reached for the hilt of his sword, but hovered above it for a painful second – as long as it took him to remember that the weapon would be of no real use. Deprived of all of its reiatsu, which he could no longer master, his zanpakutoh was no more than a dead piece of metal.

Pantera's scabbard painfully connected to Yammy's knee tendons from the side, and her blade crossed his chest; spinning on his knee, Grimmjow allowed the Decima's extended and bloodied arm to hiss over his head. He darted up behind the giant, who slipped to his knees in pain. Pantera whipped across Yammy's back, then tipped his chin back.

'D'ya hear me, Yammy?' Grimmjow snarled. 'I was grateful; cuz I had the opportunity to see the greatest fall from grace known to this fucking _new_ world, dude. The greatest fall from grace, ever. An' all she had to do to make your precious Ulquiorra fall was bat an eyelid,' he hissed, in the kneeling giant's ear. 'All _he_ would have had to do was extend a hand to save him...'

Yammy jerked up, the tremendous force of his fury throwing Grimmjow off his feet, and hurling him fifty feet back.

'…but he didn't,' Ichigo said, in the Sexta's turn. 'Aizen didn't.'

Yammy did not hear him; he vanished, and when he next reappeared, his fingers had yet again dug into Grimmjow's throat. With the force of an iron hammer, the Decima's knee hit Grimmjow in the stomach, causing him to lurch forward. Yammy's fingers captured his wrist, and the Gran Rey Cero burst to the side, leaving Ichigo and Orihime less than half a second to get out of its path.

'You…' the Decima roared, twisting Grimmjow's arm, and turning the Sexta around so fast that the blue haired Arrancar did not have the time to raise his sword. 'You did this, you wanted this – it's your fault…'

Yet, though his forehead slammed into the wall, Grimmjow threw his head back and laughed.

'Ya lost your head, Yammy,' he said. 'With losing Ulquiorra, you well an' truly lost your head. Not that you had more than shit for brains to begin with.'

The Decima's grip on the back of Grimmjow's neck strengthened, and Yammy's uncontrolled reiatsu rose, causing long cracks to expand up the walls and pillars. Worried by the deafening crackling of stone, Ichigo looked up, already seeking an opening for when the entire tower would crumble. The closest window was more than a hundred feet up, he thought, wondering if he would make the distance while carrying Orihime, and knowing that he would soon have to try.

Letting go of the girl, he brought Zangetsu to the ready.

'Kurosaki-kun,' Orihime pleaded, grabbing hold of his arm with all of her strength. 'There's no need for this! Yammy…-sama,' she breathed, dashing forward. 'Grimmjow!'

'Why don't I get a suffix?' the Sexta grunted.

For a split second, Orihime was disconcerted.

As was Yammy – and the split second was all of the time Grimmjow needed.

His forearm lodged powerfully into the stone, followed by his knee, then, the sole of his foot. Catching the move, Yammy grunted, pressing against the Sexta's shoulders with all of his weight.

'Who do ya think ya are doin' this for, Yammy?' the Sexta sneered, pushing back inch after painstaking inch. 'Who? D'ya think you're doing it for Aizen? You ain't. He doesn't need ya, dude. He never did.'

'For Aizen?' Yammy grunted. 'No, not for Aizen, Grimmjow. For myself.'

He slowly turned his head to look at Orihime and Ichigo – his face was drenched in sweat, showing that keeping Grimmjow still was consuming all of his strength.

'Take Inoue Orihime and go away,' he said, eyes locking on to Ichigo's. 'Go while the tower still stands. My fight's not with you.'

'That's fucking weak!' Grimmjow cackled, not leaving Ichigo time to react. 'That is _so _fucking weak! What would Aizen-sama say? What would Ulquiorra say, eeh, Yammy?'

'Not gonna repeat it again, Kurosaki Ichigo.' Yammy warned, clenching his fist; the cutting light of the gathering Cero briefly escaped though his fingers. 'Take her and go.'

Sensing that the heat of the Cero was burning the back of his neck, Grimmjow decided to up his efforts. With a swift movement, the Sexta pushed himself off the wall, making Yammy lose his balance at the very moment when the Cero fired – the red light ripped though the stone, making the structure shake. Yammy spun on himself, eyes bloodshot and opaque with rage; he caught Grimmjow by the ankle, pulling him back.

The Sexta cursed under his breath, but spun on himself and propped his right foot on Yammy's forehead. The giant stumbled a step back, but shot blindly - his next strike hit dangerously close to the base of one of the pillars, making Ichigo realize that time was running out.

'Let's go, Orihime,' he shouted, trying to cover the explosion of another Cero- this time, Grimmjow's. 'Will you goddamn watch it!' the human yelled, shaking his fist in the Sexta's direction. 'You're gonna hit the bloody pillars if you keep shooting like that!'

Grimmjow's only response was a manic cackle.

'Haul ass if you're scared, Kurosaki,' the Arrancar said. 'Ya heard what Yammy said, he's generously gonna spare you an' your woman…Cuz, of course,' Grimmjow added, using his Sonido to confuse Yammy and appear behind him, 'ya had plenty to be scared of in the first place!'

At last, Ichigo noticed, Grimmjow was no longer playing. This time, his well aimed kick made Yammy spit blood and fall forward. The Sexta's heel dug in between his shoulders, reducing his attempts at getting up to naught, and Pantera's tip pressed into the back of his skull.

'You haven't answered me, Yammy,' Grimmjow drawled. 'What would Ulquiorra say?'

'He'd say you don't deserve to speak his name,' Yammy grunted in response. 'Three of you…it took three of you to defeat him.'

Ichigo sensed the sudden tension in Orihime's muscles, and looked down in surprise. The girl did not return the glance; she simply stared at Grimmjow with a pained expression on her features. Ichigo frowned.

'Three of you,' Orihime echoed, her fists clenched on her dress.

'Yeah,' Grimmjow laughed, looking towards her with amusement Ichigo could not really grasp. 'He took three of us, but that was OK, Yammy – ya only took one. Or better put, dude, half of one, 'cuz there ain't no sane person who'd count Lilinette for full…'

'End it,' Yammy heaved.

'With pleasure,' the Sexta purred – Pantera swung into a wide arch, making Ichigo cringe and attempt to pull Orihime away. She stood her ground.

'Grimmjow,' she cried, stopping the sword in mid-blow. 'Stop it!'

The Arrancar smirked, leaning his blade on his shoulder with a nonchalant gesture. Even the pressure he applied to Yammy's shoulders seemed to have relaxed, but the giant's attempts at getting up had stopped as well. Nothing but painful, cut off breaths came from his collapsed frame, and he did not look up to Orihime; he did not have to. Grimmjow spoke in his turn.

'You're not getting it, woman,' he grinned wide, tilting is head to the side and watching her through narrowed, wickedly amused eyes. 'He ain't got nowhere to go and if we leave him he ain't gonna be grateful. There ain't much chance we could take ya to smash stuff on our behalf, is there, Yammy?' he asked, prompting the Decima to answer with a swift kick.

'Not on your life, _gato,' _Yammy breathed in response.

'An' if he's not gonna kill himself comin' at me, he's gonna kill himself goin' at Stark. Tho'' Grimmjow sneered, 'Stark's gonna be much less patient than I was, Yammy. Confess, dude,' the Sexta whispered, as if he had meant for only his prisoner to hear him, 'for half a second there, ya thought ya had a chance. I'm a great guy, like that,' he concluded, in a bone chilling hiss.

'Grimmjow, you sick, disturbed bastard,' Ichigo muttered. 'What the hell are you getting out of this?'

'Fun,' the Sexta replied dryly. 'Great fun. And you get your woman back, Kurosaki…'

He jumped aside.

'…tho' dude, when this is all over, I'd ask her some serious fucking questions about where her head's at. Or where her ass' been, depending on your interests.'

'Shut the hell up,' Ichigo snarled, suddenly clenching his hand on Zangetsu's hilt.

Grimmjow paid him no heed, his glance locked on to Orihime's.

'How 'bout it, woman?' he asked, softly. 'Ever gonna tell him that aside his bulldog, Ulquiorra also had a _pussy _for a pet?'

'It wasn't like that,' Orihime suddenly breathed, making Ichigo take a stride to the side in amazement.

Yammy finally lifted his bloodied forehead from the stone, meeting her glance, but remaining silent. Ichigo bit his lower lip, saying nothing in his turn.

'I'd think it was exactly like that,' Grimmjow said, sheathing Pantera. 'Else why would Yammy here come at me, but not at her? After all, she did seal and deliver Ulquiorra to Aizen's games, and to _me_.'

'You could never have taken him on your own,' the Decima growled, pushing himself up though his strength faltered, and his arms trembled as if they'd no longer been able to support his wheight.

Grimmjow made no gesture to stop him.

'No, dude, I couldn't have,' he admitted. 'That's why I had the Caja Negacion, to get me through to begin with. An' after that, unlike you and ol' Ulquiorra, who thought you had your asses covered but didn't, when I could finally get him I had someone I could trust at my back…'

'But you don't have him no more,' Yammy said, with tremendous satisfaction – for the first time, Grimmjow's smile faded. 'Stark's got no one's back but his own. You're right,' the Decima laughed, finally standing. 'Ulquiorra did come for Inoue Orihime, and you're right, he did come for me. And when I lost my arm, Grimmjow, Ulquiorra saw to it that I didn't lose my rank; he looked over his shoulder for me. That's why I miss him,' the giant added, softly. 'That's why she cried weak human tears for him.' He continued, and Orihime bit her lip, belatedly trying to stop her eyes from welling up with tears.

'Stark didn't even look over his shoulder for you, Grimmjow. And he won't from now on, either. You're as fucked as I am.'

The Sexta did not respond; he simply turned away, glancing thoughtfully towards the window above.

'Move it, Kurosaki,' he said, before darting upwards. All traces of threat were gone, yet Ichigo felt more desperately eager to leave the chamber than a few minutes before. It was not necessarily the revelation that Orihime had in some way cared for her captor; he did not fully grasp it yet, and while he knew the questions would come to haunt him later, they were not his most immediate concern. Rather, it was the deep and gnawing feeling of frustration the situation gave him – he did not want to feel pity for Yammy, who was his open enemy, who'd been the friend and abettor to his other enemy, more than he wanted to feel hatred for Grimmjow, who was, by the force of events, his ally. Yet, uncontrollable and wild, both feelings surged, tearing at him. Ichigo wrapped his arm around Orihime's waist and jolted her up.

He could not make the distance in one leap; instead, he leaned his knee and the wall, giving himself an additional push, focusing on his drift, and on shielding his face from the shards of glass that flew everywhere when Grimmjow passed through the window – anything to distract him from the little tremors that gripped the body of the girl he held, and from the fact that her glance had not left Yammy's until the Decima, who stood alone under the five great pillars, finally disappeared from sight.

Ichigo had barely landed, when he became aware of the energy gathering about Grimmjow's fist; he didn't have time to turn, though Orihime had time to scream before the teal Gran Rey Cero ripped through the darkness and the structure behind them collapsed in roaring, unstoppable thunder.

'Grimmjow!' Ichigo exclaimed, in utter fury.

The Sexta did not look his way, eyes trained onto the pillar of dust that stood where Nnoitra's tower had, but seconds before.

'Lord, when I die, make'em bury me standin', cuz I've spent all of my life on my knees.' Grimmjow said, to no one in particular. He spat to the side. 'Fitting end for a lapdog.'

It was only then that, to Ichigo's complete astonishment, Orihime began to cry in earnest.

* * *

Up next - Worry about Hisagi and/or Soi Fon...and/or Kaname Tousen's freedom of speech.

...wait, did I actually type that?

...oye...


	52. Sandstorm

Evening, all :) And sorry for the delay - life has been hectic, and Soi Fon and Halibel have proven despondent - thank you so very much for reading and commenting :) And thank you, Maidros, for putting up with my Emo. Though, you know, sometimes, Emo is right, and there is a saying that goes - quitters never win, and winners never quit, but if you don't win and you don't quit, then you're an idiot.

Chapter 52 - Where I should have quit...

P.S. O.O...Folks...Stark and Szayel A. G. actually made it to the character listing of FF...Whoa...

* * *

'Whaddya think you're pullin', Stark?' Ichimaru Gin asked, in a light chuckle.

'I might ask the same question, Ichimaru,' Stark shrugged, indicating Matsumoto with a swift movement of his chin. 'Did Aizen-sama say it was all right for you to keep her? I thought he didn't like sharing.'

'Heee,' Gin laughed again; the Primera did not miss the significance of the fact that Shinsou was still unsheathed in the former Shinigami's hand. 'That was a crack worthy of Grimmjow. Only, Grimmjow didn't end up so good for being cheeky. Not everybody has my sense of humor; I'm even thinking that if Tousen was here instead of me, he'd be wonderin' what was up with your Cero just now.'

'What was wrong with my Cero?' Stark asked, sounding mildly irked.

'Dunno,' Gin shrugged. 'Seemed a bit on the light side, if ya catch me drift…'

'I was merely giving you time to get out of the way,' Stark shrugged. 'Would have been a pity if you were caught in the path of my Cero while saving the adorable damsel – Aizen-sama would have been most disappointed in _me. _Jury might still be out on you, though.'

The corners of Gin's lips continued to point upwards, his smile not faltering for a single second.

'Ain't you a sweet concerned man,' the former Shinigami said. 'Always worried 'bout others. Dontcha worry, Stark, dontcha worry 'bout me for a single second. I know what I'm doin',' he concluded, with a winning grin.

Stark shrugged, yawned, then turned away, glancing in the distance. He was keenly aware of Ichimaru's stare, but he cared little, and was wiser than to show even the little concern that he felt. He felt Halibel's reiatsu awakening, and could only assume that she too had come up against a captain – sooner or later, the Primera thought, they would, all, join in, the Shinigami in black as well as the Shinigami in white. He closed his eyes, searching for Lilinette's reiatsu in the madness of energies round him, and nodded to himself when he'd found her. She was not making much progress against the Shinigami of the eastern tower, but she was not getting hit, either – all he could feel from her side was growing frustration.

''Stead of worryin' about me, ya should think of yourself. That kind of Cero won't help you none against the bigger fish, Stark. I can only hope ya know what you're doin',' Ichimaru hissed, tightening his grip on the woman's frame.

The Primera looked over his shoulder, with no trace of hurry or surprise.

'More or less than usual, Ichimaru,' he answered, in a bored tone. 'More or less than usual.'

He vanished before the former Shinigami could add anything else, and, though he was still nagged by some doubt, Ichimaru had to admit that he was relieved by the Primera's withdrawal.

He slowly drifted downwards, landing on one knee and cradling Matsumoto to his chest. He loosened his grip on her shoulders, allowing her to slip downwards a few inches, then, with careful fingers, pulled her kimono aside to look at her wound. He frowned, and, in spite of the fact that the woman had whimpered audibly, he gently turned her on the side and pulled her kimono fully off her shoulders, sustaining it with his forearm and not allowing it to slip off her chest.

The injury was typical of Stark, Ichimaru thought, with a little uncharacteristic frown. Entry wound in the back, a single, clean and precise strike, followed by an incapacitating rotation of the blade. The sword had found its way between the ribs, and cleanly exited just beneath the collarbone, angled slightly upwards, as one might have expected from a strike that came from the height of the hip. That too was very characteristic of Stark – he never drew until the very second before he intended to actually attack.

The only thing that was completely uncharacteristic about the injury, Ichimaru thought, settling Matsumoto in his arms as comfortably as he possibly could have, was that Stark had missed.

Not by much, Gin realized, looking at the gaping wound on the woman's chest. Had the Espada angled his sword ever so slightly less, the strike would have gone straight through the heart.

_I was too late._

Ichimaru Gin had left Yamamoto's fiery prison the moment he had sensed Hitsugaya's reiatsu awakening; with the writhing flames drowning out most of the reiatsu from outside, he had had no idea that Halibel and Stark had entered the play, and neither of the two had dispensed a noticeable amount of energy. Confident in Hitsugaya's arrogance – which led him to believe that the young captain would never immediately release his Bankai unless all other paths of combat were exhausted – Gin had not hurried to leave the dome, yet, once he had, and he'd understood that the Captain and vice-captain of the tenth had gone against Stark, he'd rushed to the northern tower in a single heartbeat.

He had hoped Stark would begin with Hitsugaya, and only go after Matsumoto after he was out of the way, but even as his Shumpo carried him to the scene, Gin had known that his assumption was little more than wishful thinking, as was the notion that Stark would, for some reason dispense less force with the woman than he would with her captain. The Primera did not differentiate. So, Gin had forced himself into the fastest Shumpo he had ever mastered, only to arrive too late. Too late, and yet, unexplainably, on time.

He looked down at Rangiku, brushing a strand of hair away from her forehead, and barely resisting the urge of gripping her tighter.

The Primera did not waste time on non-deadly blows, especially not blows of this kind. If he had intently stabbed her in the back, she should have been dead.

_I was too late, but she's still alive._

He'd either missed, or intentionally avoided her heart.

Gin smirked and stood, then, after a quick glance in the direction of the eastern tower, vanished, wishing that the irking doubt over Stark's reasons for leaving Matsumoto alive would not have dented his joy at the fact that he had.

Yamamoto's dome still held, but Gin went far around it, in the direction of his companions' reiatsu; the former captain of the third division needed little to feel that both Aizen and Tousen had left the flame enclosure almost immediately after he had. Both stood atop an empty building but feet away from the barrier, allowing it to hide their presences and mask their reiatsu. Gin posed Matsumoto down at Aizen's feet, and there was no twinge of doubt or apology in his eyes as he looked up. Aizen's smile was as kind as ever, though now there had been a small glimmer of amusement lurking in the depth of his warm brown eyes. Two Numeros, in grey Exequias uniforms, rushed forward, then abruptly stopped, staring at the Shinigami in open confusion and fright, then questioningly looking to Aizen for permission.

'Hurry up a bit, will ya,' Gin snapped – their attention quickly shifting from Aizen to Ichimaru, the two Exequias needed no further prompts. They kneeled by the woman's side, and Gin stepped away. Nonetheless, he continued to concernedly watch their gestures; he'd never truly trusted the healing capacities of the Exequias, and without Granz's machinery to aid them, they felt even weaker than usual. Yet, Ichimaru thought, it was still better than nothing.

'I take it Hitsugaya is dead,' Aizen said.

Tousen took a step closer, as if he had seen Gin's nod.

'Stark?' Aizen asked.

'Na,' Ichimaru replied, thoughtfully. 'Me. Tho' Stark smacked him up real good.'

'Alas, poor Shiro-kun,' Aizen sighed, making Ichimaru laugh knowingly. 'But a snowflake in the storm.'

'The Primera moved without order,' Tousen blurted.

'Truth be told, Tousen-san,' Ichimaru drawled, 'we didn't tell 'em to move, but we didn't tell them not to move, either. That one was pretty much up fo' dibs… Barragan ain't movin'. I doubt he will until his _dragons _are outta the way. But even without indication, the other two are doin' well, one's gotta say. Stark on his second tower, and Halibel is on Soi Fon.'

Aizen nodded.

'At this rate, it won't be long before the rest of the captains join in,' he said, with a little shrug. 'With Hitsugaya down, they will begin to feel seriously threatened.'

His shy smile grew wider.

'As perhaps they should,' he concluded.

'Gotta say,' Gin snickered, 'They're doin' much better than I thought they would be. Even the Fracciones. My poor Kira,' he sighed. 'He didn't much see what hit him.'

'Oddly though,' Aizen amusedly observed, arching a questioning eyebrow at Gin, 'the northern tower is still standing.'

Gin slapped his forehead.

'Oye,' he admitted, somewhat regretfully looking at Matsumoto, 'I completely forgot. I was an idiot.'

'You allowed yourself to fall out of focus,' Tousen snarled, from the side, and Gin rolled his eyes.

'Kaname,' Aizen amusedly scolded, 'be more forgiving. Our Gin had his reasons.'

'D'ya want me to go back?' Ichimaru asked, looking up at Aizen. 'Could do – they didn't sense me the first time 'round, they won't sense me this time….'

The brown haired Shinigami focused for a second, listening to the reiatsu around them.

'No,' he answered at long length. 'Let's give them a few minutes. If they re-man the northern tower, they will spread themselves even thinner. You know,' he dreamily said, 'their inability of engaging in combat together keeps astounding me at every turn.'

'Yeh,' Gin laughed. 'Have ta say, I didn't much like that you kept both Stark an' Halibel so close together, given that they've known each other for such a long time, but it's proven smart. They think da same, an' I think Stark's torch is still burnin', if ye catch me drift. His reiatsu was all out readin' everything; if she gets in trouble, he'll come runnin'. Doubt anyone's gonna be runnin' for Soi Fon.'

'Aizen-sama's choices are always the wisest,' Tousen said, blankly. 'We are both stronger and more coordinated than the enemy, and they are not retreating, as we had feared. Soon, not only shall we defeat them one by one, opening our path towards the towers, but also our path towards the Captain Commander. Sooner than we had expected, but open nonetheless.'

The resentment over the change in plan was clear in Tousen's voice, and, briefly taking his eyes off Matsumoto, Gin looked to Aizen.

'Two things you ought ta be thinkin' 'bout,' he said. 'We hadn't planned for the Espada to go out this fast; tho' we hadn't planned it, Stark did go out, an' so far, because he did, Shiro-kun's dead. That ought ta cause some panic, an' I do think they're gonna man the northern tower with another captain. So, so far, it's better than we'd planned. Still, it's faster than we had planned.'

'Stark hastened the play', Aizen said.

'An' he didn't kill Rangiku,' Gin added. Though he had done his best, and his voice had not truly trembled, his nervousness had been obvious to one who knew him well – Aizen acknowledged his former lieutenant's efforts with a slow nod. 'Neither of the two is bad, but he's settin' the pace and pickin' his fights like a man on a mission.' Gin continued, after coughing lightly.

'True,' Aizen agreed. 'Neither proactive initiative nor leaving enemies alive is typical for my new Primera.'

'One never heals of the rot of treachery,' Tousen muttered. 'I have warned you of this, Aizen-sama.'

'All choose their paths as they see fit,' Aizen indifferently shrugged. 'And all of their paths are known to me, Kaname. Do not worry,' he laughed, reassuringly patting his companion on the shoulder.

'I am concerned,' Tousen protested. 'Though the Primera's actions are beneficial, I feel a great deal of uncertainty…'

'You also feel that Wonderwice is finally makin' himself useful on the other side,' Gin snickered.

Tousen's features briefly reflected his anger, but the expression receded as soon as it had surfaced; Gin's smile grew a little bit wider. Tousen had not liked the thought of leaving his favored Arrancar behind, even more so because he rightfully suspected neither Gin nor Aizen himself placed a great deal of confidence with Wonderwice's combat abilities. Where Tousen would have preferred to think his addled favourite would go down in a blaze of glory, taking at least one of his enemies with him, Gin's stance had been that Wonderwice would at most destroy some of the machinery in the control chamber before meeting his expected demise. In the end they had agreed that the destruction of the control panels would only be used as a last resort; Tousen had not been fooled by the linguistic compromise.

They had not left Wonderwice behind to fight; they'd simply left him behind to clear their tracks.

'My insistence in leaving him to guard the control chamber is proving an inspired choice,' the former captain of the ninth said blankly. 'Your confidence in your security system proved, as I well suspected, vastly unfounded.'

'I never said it was gonna keep Szayel Aporro forever,' Gin shrugged, without taking offence. 'An' he's doin' a good an' fast job, tho' I'd like to be a fly on the wall when he sees what's left of the panels.'

'Your confidence in the fact that he will be unable to render them functional again is also unfounded!' Tousen snapped.

Had he not been completely entranced with the fact that Matsumoto had moved, ever so slightly, Gin might have slapped his forehead again.

'Tousen-saaan…' he said, plaintively. 'I know ya think the world of Szayel Aporro, but he ain't gonna learn Soul Society technology in three hours. 'Sides, I have lotsa confidence in mindless smashing…Ya know,' he beamed, 'tha difference between a criminal an' an idiot that's attacking a system is that the idiot normally does damage on a wider scale, and to usually unfixable proportions.'

'An' I have great faith that Wonderwice is an idiot,' he concluded, not needing to look Tousen's way to know that his companion was now truly enraged.

'Aizen-sama!' Tousen growled. 'I request permission to go crumble the northern tower! I do not like the fact that Stark is setting our pace. I even less like the fact that behind us, Szayel Aporro is making a fool of Ichimaru – I understand that if we crush the towers too fast, the Gotei divisions may be tempted to withdraw to the Sereitei and force us to face them there, where their powers are greater than in the human world. However, they seem to be spreading out rather than withdrawing; I would like to go and crush at least one of the towers, so that the town begins to return…'

'You do not enjoy a bit of suspense, do you, Kaname?' Aizen asked, kindly.

'No, Aizen-sama,' Tousen said dryly. 'I do not. Do I have your permission to undo Ichimaru's mistake?'

'You do, you do,' Aizen said, nodding slowly. 'Only…'

He closed his eyes; at the same time, in the western horizon, the tower that sustained the illusion was blown apart from mid height, sending huge clouds of debris into the sky.

'Po!' Tousen exclaimed, in genuine surprise.

'…only,' Aizen continued, with a little shy shrug, 'it's not really needed.'

* * *

Soi Fon drew back, desperately gasping for air – she wiped the blood from the corner of her lips and looked towards the Espada in utter incomprehension.

The woman was as fast as Yoruichi, but even stronger, more focused. She had matched Soi-Fon's speed blow for blow, followed her move for move, her suffocating reiatsu rendering the air heavy and thick…making it hard to move, making it painful to even breathe.

Though she had been continuously moving at the top of her speed, Soi Fon had not been able to get close enough to be a threat - in the past half an hour, the Shinigami had managed to land a single blow, and even that, she had thought, was because Halibel had willingly left herself open for a split second, just to test Suzumebachi's strength. She had not drawn, either, content on using the wide, short scabbard of her sword as a mallet or shield, switching it from one hand to the other with amazing speed and dexterity, twisting it between her fingers and bringing it down from the most unexpected angles, always finding an opening while revealing none.

Yet, though she was already feeling tired, Soi Fon had not paused to rest – she'd paused because of the fact that the landscape of distant reiatsu had suddenly changed; she shook her head in disbelief.

'Hitsugaya…' she thought, and unwillingly breathed out.

_Impossible…impossible…_

'Feels like Stark's got the one up, Halibel-sama!' Apache shouted.

'In exchange, however,' the Espada replied in a controlled tone, and looking at the outline of the butterfly which had flourished on her hip, 'I am embellished.'

'It looks good on you, Halibel-sama,' Mira Rose agreed.

'I doubt it will last after she's dead, though,' Sun-Sun remarked.

Halibel nodded thoughtfully.

'Can always have a permanent one done, if ya like it,' Apache said, in a conciliatory tone.

'Bitches,' Soi Fon breathed, feeling the mockery cut to the bone. Hitsugaya's reiatsu was, indeed gone, she thought, sudden fear invading her body with each cut off breath.

_If they had done away with Hitsugaya…In less than an hour's time…_

She lifted her chin in defiance, not missing the fact that all four Arrancar had grinned viciously at her brief lack of focus – that was why, Soi Fon understood, clenching her teeth, Halibel had not followed, and had permitted the pause. Not to allow her to regain her breath, but to give her time to panic.

_If they had done away with Hitsugaya…_

As if sensing the Shinigami's thoughts, all four drifted slowly closer, the superimposition of their reiatsu clamping Soi-Fon's chest.

Unforgiveable, the Shinigami thought, trying to still the tremor in her hands. What Aizen had done was unforgiveable. These creatures, these unnatural, terrible and terribly strong creatures…

_What if I cannot stop her?_

Too fast to repress, and fed by the tiredness of her body as well as the gigantic insecurity the knowledge that one of the Captains had fallen caused, the thought crossed her mind; its passage must have been obvious on her features, for Halibel's eyes narrowed and Apache laughed out loud.

Despite her mind's protest, the alien thought grew and flourished on its own, like a parasite stretching fine tentacles between her vertebrae and crawling upwards over her spine.

_What if we cannot stop them?_

She raised her weapon.

_What if we cannot stop him?_

The broad side of Halibel's scabbard connected with her lower jaw – a short, dry hit which nonetheless carried tremendous momentum.

'Unfocussed,' the Espada hissed. Her proximity burned like a thousand suns, but, Soi Fon realized, grabbing hold of Halibel's wrist before the Arrancar could pull away, her skin was deathly cold.

Soi Fon jumped, never breaking eye contact with the Espada as she pulled her arm upwards and brought herself into a hand stand over Halibel's head. Despite the fact that the Shinigami had put all her speed into the motion, which would have broken the arm of any other creature, Halibel's frame seemed to be constructed of steel – the arm did not move further back than its natural range of motion, and the shoulder joint refused to give in.

But then, Soi Fon thought, with a cruel smile, and feeling revitalized by the Espada's attack, she did not need the arm to break – with the dexterity of a gymnast, the Shinigami turned, changing the position of her grip and facing in the opposite direction before letting go and landing behind the Espada, and aiming the hornet's sting to the already marked spot on the Espada's hip.

Unphased, Halibel let go of her sword, deftly catching it with her other hand, and rotating the scabbard upwards just in time to catch the blow; in perfect sequence, Mira Rose's staff landed on Soi-Fon's shoulder with crippling force. The Shinigami's right hand lashed out, catching the Fraccion's weapon, and not allowing her to pull away.

She twisted the staff, also twisting the arm of the Arrancar who foolishly held on to it, then used the determination with which Mira Rose held on to the weapon to push herself upwards and kick the Fraccion in the chin. The dark skinned girl cursed, finally letting go of the staff as blood gushed out of her nose. Not letting her recover her focus, Soi Fon entangled her fingers in the Fraccion's hair and curled her arm by her side.

Mira Rose struggled to get away but she was neither fast nor powerful enough to get away; the hornet's mark flowered over her stomach, not even complete before Soi Fon's arm drew back for the second blow. Soi Fon smiled – without fail, the flat scabbard of Halibel's sword came between Suzumebachi's tip and the Fraccion's flesh, but the stinger changed direction in mid-flight, as Soi Fon turned, the golden rings on the tips of her tails hissing fiercely though the air.

Halibel's attempt at evasion had been fast, but not fast enough – she'd merely succeeded in pushing the Shinigami's hand a few inches down, making her miss her target. Yet, as Halibel drifted out of Soi Fon's reach, one arm protectively wrapped around Mira Rose, a new mark expanded across the golden skin of her hip, its contours entangled with the contours of the first.

'Halibel-sama…' Mira Rose breathed.

'She's a captain,' Halibel said, blankly, letting go of Mira Rose's shoulders and turning towards Soi Fon. 'It's normal that she's stronger than you. You need to find other means than strength.'

There had been no reproachful undertone, Soi Fon noted; no trace of any other emotion, either, but no reproach – it was, however more than enough.

'So that's your opening,' Soi Fon breathed. '_They_ are your openings.'

Halibel's eyes narrowed, but the tone of her voice did not change.

'When your weapon becomes lodged, Mira Rose, let go of it. Change hands. Shift your wheight – preserve the ability to surprise. Show her, Apache.'

Mira Rose swallowed dry, suddenly looking chastised; behind her, Sun Sun coughed lightly into her sleeve. Then, Soi Fon did not have the time to observe anything more.

The odd-eyed Fraccion advanced, tugging off the rounded, solid looking edge of her left hand glove; it dislodged easily, slipping over her fingers, and flying at Soi Fon's face in the same swift and unstoppable motion, with such speed that it sent sparks though the air. The Shinigami dodged, taking a step to the side. She frowned lightly, wondering what the Fraccion had hoped to accomplish. Even if the move had been fast, it had been wide and posed little to no danger.

Undaunted, Apache pulled off her other bracelet – expecting another toss, Soi Fon narrowed her eyes, and focused her attention on the disk.

'This one ain't like the other one,' Apache shrugged, flicking the metal disk upwards, and sending it into a wild spin. Flames grew out of its edges, and, under Soi Fon surprised stare, it quickly began to expand. Serrated blades, in the odd semblance of rose thorns, grew out of the metal – the hole in its center was not transparent, Soi Fon, noted with surprise. It looked like a thin sheet of dark liquid covered it, swallowing Apache's hand almost up to the elbow.

The rotation brusquely stopped, the metal glinting dangerously in the sun; Apache smiled, and let go of the frame.

Then, she jumped into the darkness feet first, disappearing as if she'd jumped into water – the surface rippled, the waves engulfing the frame and creeping across it; in a flash, the Fraccion and her circle had vanished completely. Soi Fon did not have the time to fully turn around before the speedily rotating blades appeared out of nowhere, by her left side; grunting, the Shinigami raised her arms, metal sending hot sparks against metal.

'Told ya this one was different,' Apache laughed; with an impossibly fast gesture, she pulled her arm out of the rippling darkness, and grabbed the frame, whipping it forward and forcing Soi Fon's to arch back to an impossible angle – the motion was surprising enough for Shinigami's reaction to be slowed; one of the blades stopped an inch from her face. 'This one's different,' Apache continued, grinning into the Shinigami's disbelieving face. Her blue eye had exactly the same color as the steel that floated before her, in mid air. 'But it's still the other one you gotta watch out for.'

Soi Fon did not get the time to draw another breath.

The solid, metal plate that Apache had flung out, seemingly without target, struck the back of her head, just underneath her hair – for a moment, the world was swallowed by tentacles of darkness and blood. Soi Fon stumbled forward, her arm falling limply to her side; the sharp, iron thorns dug into her shoulder and resumed their spin, shredding though skin, flesh and bone.

Brutally jerked back to reality, Soi Fon lodged her foot into Apache's stomach, pushing herself away from the Fraccion. She did not get far. Halibel's fingers encircled her throat, crushing it like a metal shackle.

'Openings?' Halibel whispered, in the stunned Shinigami's ear. 'They are not my openings. They are my weapons and Aizen-sama's gift, and though they are not fully grown yet, they are stronger than anything you and yours can muster.'

'You are right to be afraid, Shinigami,' she continued, smiling at Soi Fon's struggles. 'We will get you, all, one by one, and you will pay for your foolishness and blindness in Aizen-sama's regard.'

Each breath that Soi Fon drew grew more shallow; she felt blood trickling on the back of her neck and down her arm. The air was hot and heavy, and smelled like cinnamon…the blue eye of the Fraccion had the same color as iron.

'The only reason why you are still alive, Captain Soi Fon,' the Espada said, calmly, 'is because I would have liked you to show my girls your Bankai. So that they realize they have nothing to fear of your godless lot. But I think you have proven that well enough already.'

'See to the tower, Sun Sun,' Halibel commanded. 'We're done here.'

Soi Fon vanished, leaving naught but a thin mist of crimson in the wake of her Shumpo – frowning, for she had not expected the Shinigami to be able to free herself from her grip, Halibel protectively angled her scabbard over her hip. She was not the Shinigami's target, however.

Sun Sun had not even had time to half draw her sword before the hornet's golden tip touched her right shoulder; it had not even been a sting, and it hadn't been painful. She turned, parrying Soi Fon's second blow, but not pushing the Shinigami's arm far enough. Another mark darkened the silk of the kimono, over the Fraccion's stomach, and though Halibel had darted in her Fraccion's direction, it was Apache's floating disk that reached its target first. The solid metal object had been thrown into the center of the wider circle, and vanished, to reappear just behind Soi Fon – it had changed its trajectory in mid-flight, its spinning, sharp edge cutting across Soi Fon's back. It was not enough, however; a third mark grew over Sun Sun's chest.

'Nothing to fear?' Soi Fon breathed. 'I wouldn't be so sure.'

She ignored Halibel, drifting just out of the Espada's grasp, and keeping her eye on the Fraccion behind her. The Shinigami feigned a step towards the right, but drifted left, smiling wickedly as the iron disk and Halibel's scabbard simultaneously came to block her would be passage.

Unhindered, Soi Fon reappeared behind Halibel, directing a powerful kick to the Espada's kidneys, and propelling herself towards the dark haired Fraccion. She closed her eyes, smelling the air around her and sensing the difference in the patterns of reiatsu…hearing Sun Sun's blade hiss defensively, as the Fraccion angled it across her marked chest, and, more importantly, acknowledging the third presence which had risen behind her before the Arrancar had even truly ended her Sonido.

Mira Rose did not even scream; she simply stood, watching the mark on her stomach glow red, then her flesh growing transparent and fading into nothingness. She was gone before any of them had the time to blink, naught but golden ashes drifting across the sky and scattering in the wind.

Sun Sun gasped and Apache screamed, both frozen in shock and incomprehension – and to Soi Fon's great satisfaction, even Halibel exhaled once, sharply.

'Tell that to your God,' Soi Fon breathed.

The world froze for a moment, a single, peaceful breath.

Then, the broad, pink scabbard fell to the side.

'_Danza, tormenta de arena__1__…' _Halibel said, as the blade between her fingers, then her fingers themselves turned to sand and scattered into the wind.

_Bankai, _Soi Fon thought, without getting the time to say it; hot, thin particles invaded her nose and mouth, and, just before her chest exploded from within, the Shinigami realized that not being able to stop _them…him…_was, in the end, a real and very distinct possibility.

--

1 Dance, Sand Storm.

--

Up Next - I keep taunting Totnes, but this time it's gonna happen. Hisagi meets Lilinette; Szayel Aporro meets Byakuya's Bankai, and then Renji's intrepid fingers. Ahem! (no, Ishida is not jealous, he knows Szayel better than that...)


	53. Self Help

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen :D And thank you for your kind words over the past week. :) I've felt truly encouraged :)

As usual, thank Maidros for putting up with me :)

I had meant to put an Author's Note up tonight in my profile. Sadly, the profile page is resistant to copy paste, so I have temporarily uploaded it as a chapter. I apologise. It will come down tomorrow night.

Chapter 53 - Where Renji helps himself. To Szayel Aporro.

* * *

'Nononononono!' Szayel Aporro exclaimed, grabbing hold of Renji's wrist and resolutely keeping him from drawing Zabimaru. They darted in opposite directions, and Wonderwice's Barra exploded far behind them.

The accursed creature was strong, Renji thought, a lot stronger than he should have been, given the fact that he had a more delicate frame than even Rukia. Szayel's grip on his wrist had been so powerful that it had immediately left a bruise. It felt as if his delicate, silk gloves had been reinforced with steel.

Content that he had gotten away from the Octava, Renji yet again prepared to draw; this time, however, it was not Szayel's horrified grimace that stopped him, but mere confusion at the fact that the blonde Arrancar before him seemed to have lost his focus entirely. He simply crouched in mid-air, a single, white spot in the complete darkness of the chamber, looking at Byakuya in open and childish curiosity.

'Waaaa…?' it said, blinking twice. 'We-heee!' it added, in a happy tone.

'I think it likes you, Captain Kuchiki,' Szayel said, from somewhere in the darkness. 'Somehow, I do not find this surprising. Tell it to heel.'

'Excuse me?' Byakuya asked, with a mild frown. 'It is not a dog, it is a human…well, he is an _Arrancar_,' he corrected, to Unohana's light chuckle. 'Nonetheless…'

'Wooh,' Wonderwice agreed.

The Barra flew without any trace of warning, energy gathering and bursting forth from the Arrancar's fingers within the blink of an eye. For something that had taken so little time to form, the explosion was tremendously powerful, and though its aim had been uncertain, its tail burned the hem of Unohana's haori.

Szayel Aporro gasped audibly, sounding far more terrified than the situation warranted; the guardian of the control chamber did not feel particularly strong, and although he was fast, he seemed to have no span of attention. Renji frowned.

'What's with you?' he asked, with a disgusted smirk.

'This…' Szayel whimpered. 'A horrifying sight! Beyond words!'

'It's bloody pitch dark,' Renji growled. 'What did ya see? Eeeh!' he muttered, as another Barra hissed by his ear, 'he's really annoying now! Howl…'

He did not have time to finish the command, and the Octava was upon him before the blade had been half drawn; Szayel Aporro grabbed Renji's arm and twisted it around his back in a quick, indefensible motion.

'…the Hell!' Renji cursed.

'Are you really unable of processing articulated speech?' the Arrancar hissed from behind. 'I said – no!'

'Why the bloody hell not?' the Shinigami spat in return. 'He's already attacking us – there's no chance he's going to back down simply because we're not drawing…'

'That's not the point,' Szayel snarled.

'Huuu,' Wonderwice said, in an approving manner. Without facing away from Kuchiki, he extended his arm to the side, rotating his wrist. Instead of letting go of Renji, Szayel Aporro pushed him forward. Since the movement had relied on the Arrancar's wheight, it had had little effect, and Renji had pointedly resisted it – only to jump to the floor of his own accord half a second later, dragging Szayel along. The blonde Arrancar's Barra hissed inches above Szayel's back. Szayel Aporro cursed under his breath – frowning, Abarai looked up, and, in the burning light of the explosion, he caught a glimpse of the dark panels around them, finally understanding the cause of the Octava's mewling distress.

The panels that lined the wall seemed damaged and inactive; long cracks ran through along the bottoms of the boards, and most of the monitors were no more than gaping holes with cutting, broken shards of glass instead of screens.

'Well, that's not good,' Renji said, in as neutral a tone as he could muster.

'Now you get it, you abysmally thick creature,' Szayel said, standing up, but not moving a single inch to the side. 'This idiot has done unspeakable damage to the controls already – the last thing we need is for you to start mindlessly whipping at them with your little sword…would you kindly stop moving?' he snapped, in Byakuya's direction.

The captain had gracefully avoided the first of Wonderwice's sword blows, by taking a small step to the side, and letting the Arrancar's ill aimed, but powerful blow hit the panel behind him. Sparks flew and Wonderwice laughed, trying to catch them with his hands.

'Are you requesting that I stop dodging?' Byakuya dryly asked.

'No, I am asking that you stop patrolling about the room,' Szayel sighed, adjusting his glasses. 'The more you move, the more he will move, and…'

'And even if he does not hit us, he is still hurting us by destroying the controls,' Unohana nodded. 'I see.'

'Try to keep him in front of already damaged portions,' the Octava said, in an embittered tone.

'Yes, but which are they?' Renji asked, standing in his turn. 'It is so dark that I could poke my own eyes out…'

Unohana smiled, extending her hand – though her lips did not move, the red light of the kidou expanded between her fingers, then slowly drifted upwards, revealing the true dimensions of the disaster. Few of the panels had been left untouched, but most had been damaged in a way or another – torn wires, broken glass and shards of plastic lay everywhere on the floor, and dark, empty slots, which indicated that buttons had been torn off, littered the keyboards.

Incapable of gazing around, Szayel cursed profusely, with vocabulary that might have earned him Grimmjow's respect, and that made Renji blush. The Octava hid his face in his hands.

'I can't look,' the Arrancar whined. 'It is too awful.'

Oblivious to it all, and especially to Byakuya's bewildered stare, Wonderwice continued to slam his sword into the panel before him.

'Aaa-huu,' he plaintively said, noticing that his blows failed to produce new electrical sparks. 'Eeeee?' he continued, looking up a Kuchiki as if the captain of the 6th had held the solution to his dilemma. Fascinated by the Arrancar's dreamy gaze, Byakuya slowly reached out his hand, almost succeeding in grabbing him by the shoulder; the Arrancar vanished in the last split second, and Renji barely had time to bring Zabimaru up across his chest, catching the insanely fast blow of Wonderwice's own blade.

'Heeee!' the blonde merrily exclaimed, raising his sword again, and bringing it into a vicious, horizontal slash. Though he parried correctly, the mere force of the blow made Renji lose his balance and step aside; he kneeled and rolled over, sensing the gathering heat of the Cero. The red ray missed him by several feet, and, had it not been for Szayel Aporro's fast reaction, it would have carved another hole into the tortured machinery. The Octava caught it along Fornicares' length, and deflected it towards the corridor.

This could not go on for long, Szayel Aporro thought, shifting to the side and catching another Barra. Wonderwice had already severely damaged the room, and a simple glance around had shown that most of the technology within it was of Soul Society make, and unknown to him. While under different circumstances the Arrancar would have been ecstatic at the chance of exploring it thoroughly, he understood that even if the panels had been in pristine condition, he would have needed the better part of an hour to figure them out. Now, though…He'd need far more, and, with each second that Wonderwice was alive and capable of doing damage, the length of time and the complexity of the problem increased.

There had to be an advantage to be had out of the situation, Szayel Aporro thought, the machinery of his mind whirring at light speed.

_Each crisis is an opportunity, if perfectly exploited._

And, Szayel suddenly thought, repressing a little grin, he knew exactly what he would get out of this one.

He jumped, letting Wonderwice's sword circle under his feet, then, after leaning a foot on the panel behind him, flipped over the blonde, to land behind him. His breath did not falter.

'Lumina,' he whispered to his wrist, knowing that in the laboratory, the Fraccion had stood to attention. 'Bring up the secondary controls.'

The Arrancar looked up, meeting Renji's concentrated stare; the Shinigami must have caught the movement, but surely not understood the words – and, as Szayel Aporro rose to his feet, he composed his features into the most convincing dismayed smirk he could muster. He did not need long – just long enough for Lumina to make its way to his bedroom.

'We need to do away with him, fast,' Szayel breathed out.

'Well, if you won't even let me release my shikai…' Renji protested furiously, 'What are we supposed to do?'

_Release a Bankai, of course. But not yours, Abarai. I already know yours._

'I wonder how many times you need to be told that Shikai is unable to harm the more powerful Numeros. In fact,' the Arrancar sneered, 'I cannot recall a single battle report in which a Shikai triumphed. Besides, we need to prevent him from touching the walls before we even think of killing him,' Szayel muttered. 'I would fire a Cero, but it is too imprecise. Is there no Kidou…'

'Kidou can still miss,' Unohana said softly. 'And if he can avoid a Cero, he is certainly fast enough to dodge a Kidou.'

'Huooo,' Wonderwice merrily exclaimed.

'I am at a loss,' Szayel winced, pleadingly glancing at Unohana.

_Perfect words, perfect tone of voice, perfect facial expression._

Too perfect.

Renji frowned deeply, sensing that something was amiss. He looked to his captain, but could not catch Byakuya's glance – it was locked to Unohana's. The woman shrugged lightly, and, only when Byakuya had half drawn his blade, did Renji realize exactly what he did _not_ want Byakuya to do.

'No,' he shouted – he was neither loud enough, nor fast enough.

'Bankai,' Kuchiki said.

The swirling circle of swords rose just in time to hide the look of insane glee on Szayel's features. Cautiously, the Octava stepped out of the Bankai's range, and did not notice that on the opposite side of the room, Renji had done the same – the only things that truly mattered was that now, an impenetrable defensive wall stood between Wonderwice and Gin's machinery, and that Byakuya did not strike Szayel Aporro as the type who lent enemies any particular regard.

_Three birds with one stone…_

'I hope we're getting this, Lumina,' the Octava hissed again.

A small electrical pinch of the transmitter on his wrist was the only response he received, but it was enough. Szayel Aporro licked his lips in satisfaction; after a quick glance around, he tapped the side of his mask, letting out a little pleasured sigh when tiny, almost unreadable numbers started flowing over the left lens of his mask.

They were, indeed, receiving, and it took all of Szayel's self restraint not to shriek with joy when Byakuya's voice, calm and cold, once again resounded in the silence of the chamber.

'Senkei, Senbonzakura Kageyoshi.' Byakuya said, and, to the Octava's extreme delight, pink swallowed the chamber.

Not a single, but multiple Bankai forms! It was more than Szayel had hoped for. To make the prize even more appetizing, the extreme strength of the release was not as wondrous as its precision, and the control that Kuchiki exerted over each of the cutting petals, the graceful look, as well as the faint, delicate smell that accompanied the release caused Szayel to make a mental note to reconsider Byakuya's previously irrevocable placement within the ranks of the completely unattractive. When the pink tidal wave withdrew, all that was left of Wonderwice were the Bakudo bindings that Unohana had used to keep him in place.

The Arrancar patiently tapped the side of his mask, making the numbers that had flowed across it disappear.

'Bravo,' Szayel exclaimed, clapping excitedly. 'How very, very thrilling…'

Kuchiki did not even have time to look the Arrancar's way – Renji swept in between them, clenching is fist into Szayel Aporro's shirt and slamming the Octava roughly into the wall behind.

'You sneaky little bastard!' Renji breathed, not letting the fact that Szayel Aporro had defensively lifted his palms stop him. 'You sneaky, cowardly, bastard!'

'Vice-captain Abarai,' Byakuya began, frowning menacingly, yet, neither his frown, nor the cold fury in his voice made Renji step away.

'Why are you talking in your sleeve, Szayel Aporro?' Renji growled.

'I cannot speak to the more intelligent parts of my anatomy in public,' Szayel Aporro gasped. 'Most people find it rather offensive…'

He whimpered, as the red-haired Shinigami's forearm rested heavily across his neck, and Renji's features, adorned with feral satisfaction, leaned within an inch of his.

'I knew you were up to something,' Renji followed, in a low hiss. 'I knew it! And I've been watching you for a long time; was wondering if you'd make any mistakes, but now I've got you…'

'You are, quite clearly, more insane than your hairdo suggests,' the Arrancar protested, in a tiny voice.

'What is the meaning of this, vice-captain Abarai?' Unohana asked, brining herself closer; had it not been for a minute shake of Byakuya's head, she might have pulled Renji back.

Sheathing Senbonzakura, Kuchiki stepped forth in his turn, and, as if feeling his captain behind him, Renji sneered.

'Do you know how he defeated me, captain Unohana?' Renji asked. 'He defeated me because he used machinery implanted in his brother's body to gather data on my Bankai, and keep me from calling it. That's how he defeated me,' the red-haired Shinigami breathed, in long delayed satisfaction. 'That's how he hopes to defeat you.'

'Seriously, Abarai,' Szayel attempted to protest. There was no victory to be had.

'I am just curious where you implanted the machinery this time,' Abarai said, bowing his head, as if the movement could disguise his chuckles.

With soft gestures, but without allowing the Octava to even flinch, Renji slipped the fingers of his right hand inside the tight rim of Szayel's collar, savoring each inch of the advance – then, with a swift and fast pull, ripped the soft silk apart from neck to waist. And though he'd expected much, Renji had not quite been prepared for what he had found.

The cylindrical collar of the Arrancar's uniform hid at least five of his controllers, but a myriad more patches of circuitry lined the chest of his uniform, each of them meticulously sown into the inner lining of the fabric. Hair thin, spider-web like wires ran across the chest and sides of the shirt, disappearing into the sash that Szayel used as belt – and, amazed at the intricacy of the design, as well as at the sheer, impressive quantity of sensors that the Arrancar had managed to conceal, Renji gasped and took a step back.

Despite what the Shinigami had expected, Szayel paused for long enough to regain his breath, then straightened, adjusted his glasses, and smiled winningly to Byakuya's frozen stare.

'Admit it,' the Arrancar chuckled, propping his hand on his hip. 'You all had me coined for a fashion victim.'

The others were too stunned to respond.

* * *

'Yo!' Lilinette exclaimed, suddenly standing still. Hisagi's blade whirred once more, but inches above her head, before the Shinigami wound it in, frowning with concentration. 'What took ya so long?'

'Gin was over,' the air behind Hisagi responded, in a lazy male voice. 'We had a nice chat and he got the lady with the gigantic chest. He also killed the little kid with the white hair. I say, the day belongs to Gin so far.'

'Well, Halibel ain't doin' bad for herself,' Lilinette smirked, sniffing at the air, and cranking her nose. 'Big boobies get lucky around!'

The male voice sighed, and, unwillingly, Hisagi swatted his left hand over his shoulder, wondering why his back felt drenched in cold sweat, if his kimono was perfectly dry. He then winced, as the mass of cold, wet air passed over him and through him, materializing next to the girl he'd been facing.

It was only after the adult Arrancar had finally shown himself that Hisagi Shuuhei had finally grasped the full extent of the thing's reiatsu. Oddly, however, the Arrancar took little notice of him; he did not even look the Shinigami's way, contenting himself on giving the young girl an appraising glance.

'You don't want big breasts, Lilinette,' he sighed, in a conciliatory tone. 'They are uncomfortable, no shirt fits you, and they attract all sorts of unwanted attention…'

'Like, yours?' the girl answered, arching an eyebrow with obvious and very mature malice.

'I'm more of a leg guy, in all fairness' Stark defensively shrugged.

With her reiatsu in attack mode, Lilinette was insensitive to anything but large variations of energy – she had felt Halibel's release, but she had not felt Mira Rose's disappearance. Or at least, not yet, and Stark saw no reason to cause her to panic.

'So,' he began, conversationally, 'we are being slow and careful with this one?'

'Fuck slow and careful,' Lilinette answered, with an annoyed shrug. 'Can't reach him.' She added, in the way of an explanation, waving her fingers towards Hisagi.

'Exacta,' Findor sighed, painstakingly propping himself up against the wall; Stark looked his way and shook his head.

'His Majesty Barragan is not going to be happy with you, Findor,' he amusedly said.

The Fraccion sighed deeply, and nodded sheepishly.

'We can tell Barragan that Findor got him,' Lilinette answered, tugging on Stark's sleeve. 'Don't really matter, as long as he's…got.'

'Are you done with the chit-chat?' Hisagi asked, feeling his annoyance at being ignored was growing by the second.

'No,' Stark shrugged, looking up and taking a second glance at the Shinigami. 'And, if I were you, I would use the time to consider my position…' He squinted in disbelief, then unwillingly chuckled. 'A _69_? Tattooed _on your face?_'

The vice-captain of the ninth frowned menacingly.

'It is none of your concern, Arrancar…,'he began, tightly clasping the hilt of his Zanpakutoh.

'I'll freely admit that, but…a 69?' the Primera laughed, trying and failing to contain his amusement.

'What's with it?' Lilinette asked, tugging on his sleeve. 'What? What does it _mean_?'

'I would have thought Grimmjow would have explained that one at length,' Stark answered, his amusement not dimming, but changing flavor.

'Yeh, well, he ain't!' the girl muttered, visibly irked by the fact that even Findor had found the strength for a little grin. 'What is it?'

'Eeh,' Stark sighed, scratching the back of his head. 'Now's not a good time for me to elaborate on the subject. Let's just say it is something…eh…'

'That the former Octava Espada Szayel Aporro Grantz is reputedly good at,' Findor completed, and Stark nodded gratefully.

'Not that it is a skill that one would advertise in such an obvious location,' the Primera added, for completeness.

'Exacta,' Findor agreed.

'What, _math_?' Lilinette said, in complete confusion.

'Who are you people?' Hisagi burst. 'The bloody comedy relief?'

Stark bit his lower lip and nodded.

'I am,' he said, 'indeed, a very funny man. Not in the sense of funny as amusing, more in the sense of strange and dangerous. And you are not running, Shinigami. This also makes you funny, in more than your absurd sense of self decoration.'

Hisagi's features twisted in rage, and he opened his mouth to protest, but his words were cut off; behind him, in the distance, debris exploded towards the sky.

'Madarame!' he breathed, in utter disbelief.

The shock of the fact that third seat of the 11th had allowed his tower to be destroyed was enough to completely do away with whatever remained of his focus; though his ranged weapon had kept the young Arrancar at bay, Hisagi had begun to feel some strain in his muscles – she was unspeakably fast, and radiated a tremendous amount of reiatsu. Yet, in spite of the fact that she had challenged his defenses continuously and from all directions, and of the fact that her newly arrived superior had a presence that was enough to terrify anyone, Hisagi had not felt intimidated. Not until now.

The vice-captain of the ninth firmly believed in the triumph of the _good_; his childhood brush with death and almost miraculous rescue had left him with a deep, innocent and somewhat simplistic confidence in the fact that the Universe conspired in favor of the just. It had, perhaps, been this very trait that had caught Kaname Tousen's attention, and earned Hisagi his vice-captain position.

Though it had been severely shaken after his captain painful betrayal, Hisagi's trust in the power of simply being just and kind had not died – he'd told himself that the wicked had not been rewarded, but simply that the ultimate victory of the good side had been delayed to this moment, to this one decisive battle. The battle they could not afford…_could_ not lose.

But…

Madarame's tower had crumbled; the reiatsu of this Arrancar was so powerful, that it rendered him deaf to the rest of the battle – against the strangely shaped one, the one that came in the form of a child, he'd been unable to concentrate on anything but repelling attack after attack, growing increasingly more tired, but never being able to pass to the offensive. Not according to the plan, Hisagi thought, feeling an unpleasant knot in his stomach. Not like the plan at all.

'Well, that was fast!' Lilinette exclaimed. 'Is this good or bad?'

Hisagi turned around snappily, unable to discern if he had truly heard the question; in his turn, Findor, who'd not caught the phrase, frowned and painstakingly leaned forward.

'I can't tell,' Stark answered, in an as quiet as voice as his Fraccion's. 'Depends on how they will react to it.'

The Primera frowned. He had hastened the pace of the offensive precisely because he had been sure none of Barragan's Fracciones would achieve any measure of success, and because he had not wanted to allow the Shinigami any sort of morale boost. Nonetheless, he had not wanted them to feel desperately threatened either, as he understood all too well that once they realized the chance of losing actually existed, the Shinigami would either concentrate their forces, or withdraw to a more auspicious battle location. In the end, Stark had thought, Karakura Town meant as little to Yamamoto as it did to Aizen, and, if push came to shove, the Shinigami captain commander would not hesitate to abandon the humans to their fate.

On the other hand, even if the Gotei 13 chose to continue fighting to the bitter end in the human world, they would soon understand that, for however few in numbers, Aizen's creations were a force to be reckoned with. While the Shinigami had clearly underestimated the Arrancar's strength in the beginning, the loss of two captains and one of the towers would soon dispel the illusion, and, if they were not completely deprived of intelligence, they would begin concentrating forces. Which, in turn, would make the usage of non-lethal force increasingly difficult.

Still, Stark reasoned, questioningly glancing down at Lilinette, there was a third possibility – that the Gotei would seek to reinforce the towers, and not concentrate around Yamamoto; this, among all possible courses of action, would have suited Stark's intentions best. Three towers still stood, and the Shinigami would probably attempt to recover the ruins of the fourth. In that case, the remaining captains would spread out in manageable groups, and initiate their own battles, not only weakening themselves, but also leaving their commander open to attack.

Though he had not been party to Aizen's planning, Stark felt reasonably assured that Yamamoto would become the former Shinigami's target as soon as the opportunity arose. The Gotei 13 had always been heavily reliant on his leadership, for however poor and rigid. If Aizen succeeded in eliminating Yamamoto, he'd deal a severe blow to the Shinigami group, not only in terms of sheer strength, but also in terms of confidence.

The only thing that remained questionable was whether Aizen himself could take on the Captain Commander, yet, that worried Stark little. In fact, the Primera thought, the expression on his features twisting in a way which made Lilinette frown disapprovingly, in that aspect _alone_ Aizen himself had little to worry about.

There, he'd have plenty of help.

After thoughtfully pursing her lips, the girl smirked and turned her glance to Hisagi.

'Hey! Yo!' she shouted, as if she had been trying to cover hundreds of yards. 'What ya reckon y'all are gonna do now?'

'What?' the Shinigami gasped; his sword hand slipped down to his side.

'Lilinette, I regret to tell you, but this is not the way of getting enemy intelligence,' Stark muttered.

'Why not?' the Fraccion frowned. 'If I wanna know something, I ask. Eh, so, Shinigami guy! What ya reckon your bosses are gonna do now that they see y'all are losing?'

Shaking his head as if the gesture had had the power of chasing away his crippling bewilderment, Hisagi stared at Stark. The Primera shrugged.

'Judging by the look on your face, you have no idea.' Stark said, dryly.

'This…' the Shinigami whispered, the word and the subsequent shake of his head escaping his volition. _This was not meant to happen_, he'd meant to say, and Stark had understood it all too well.

'No contingency plan,' Stark said dryly. 'You have no clue.'

'You fucking surprised?' Lilinette chuckled.

'Not really,' the Primera admitted. 'Alright,' he sighed, in surrender. 'We nonetheless need to assess their reaction. Go check it out, Lilinette.'

'You're hallo…halla…halcyonating.' She dryly refuted, her shoulders growing stiff. 'I mean, you're imagining things. I ain't leaving you.'

The man frowned, but he did little to change her determination.

'I ain't movin',' Lilinette repeated coldly; the two exchanged a long glance, the sudden air of seriousness on the young girl's features sending a chill down Hisagi's spine. 'Cuz I have a suspicion you're prone to doing stupid shit at the moment, and if I stay around, you're more likely to bloody think before ya do it. Ya got it?' she shot, in such a mature voice that, for a moment, the roles of the two Arrancar seemed reversed.

'I felt your Cero,' she hissed, in the way of an explanation, and Stark's frown grew deeper; in turn, Findor stirred. The odd body language and facial expressions of his two companions, whom he'd never seen as much as frowning at each other, as well as the fact that Hisagi, who clearly heard what Findor could not, looked more and more confused with each passing second. 'I ain't saying more.' Lilinette dryly concluded, casting a brief glance in Findor's direction, then aiming her burning, narrowed eyes at Stark.

'Did you also feel that Mira Rose is dead?' the Primera asked, regretting the words as soon as he had uttered them, but knowing that they would immediately distract her – they did. The Fraccion breathed in sharply, but controlled her exhalation, her reiatsu sweeping delicately outwards, then inwards; her hands began trembling, but remarkably, she did not cry.

Nonetheless, Hisagi could feel her energy dyeing down, her attention faltering and scattering, just as the other's grew more present, more poignant; for a brief second, in sheer amazement at the fact that a Hollow could radiate such tangible pain and fear, he allowed his sword arm to slip even lower. The brief moment was long enough, however, for him to regret the movement – the cold, wet and wide tentacles of the Primera's reiatsu slithered over him once more. Hisagi's arm jerked upwards, in a motion that he understood to be too slow, but he parried against thin air; instead, there was a dry thud as Findor's head connected to the wall behind, and another thud as Barragan's Fraccion slipped limply to the side, unconscious.

The next thing Hisagi felt was Kazeshini's chain being jerked from his hands, wrapping around his shoulders, then looping wildly over his head and around his neck. He barely had time to frown, and could do nothing more than look at the Lilinette in sheer disbelief – the chain passed from her hands to the Espada's, before the cold metal dug into his flesh, stealing his breath. He let go of the right hand blade, instinctively bringing his hand up to pull the chain loose; the Espada caught it before Hisagi's fingers had the chance to reach his neck. At the very same moment, he felt the Fraccion's tiny, but nonetheless sharp claws dig into his other wrist, burning, rather than cutting through his flesh. He opened his mouth, to shout, or gasp for air – he did not truly know, and it did not particularly matter – the blade slipped downwards, separating flesh from bone and severing the tendons; Hisagi could feel his fingers extend, despite his will, and, as Stark caught Kazeshini's left handle, the pressure on his neck and shoulders became torturously tight.

'Findor's out,' the Espada hissed, right in Hisagi's ear. 'Anything you'd like to tell me, Lilinette?'

The young girl smirked, but said nothing.

'Well?' Stark said. 'Anything you'd like to say? Along the lines of – I understand this is not a game, now? I understand that we are _fucking _Vasto Lorde, and they are _fucking_ Shinigami, and that they will kill us, given the chance?'

'A game? To me?' she screamed. To Hisagi's ears, each sound felt like a stab. 'You're the one who's playing! Anyone will fucking see though that Cero, Gin saw though that Cero! What the fuck do you think you're doing? _He_ will kill you given the reason, and I think if you keep doing what you're doing, you'll be giving him reason enough!'

'Me, not us,' Stark whispered. The words sounded like a caress. 'The rest of them will not be as discriminating. Or do you think differently? Shinigami?'

Hisagi had no strength but to gasp. It was perfectly all right; the question had not been addressed to him, and the Fraccion did not need him to speak the answer.

'Aizen won't move a finger against me while I am still useful,' Stark said. 'And I am very useful at the moment – Hitsugaya is dead, even if not by my hand, and I'll leave this one up to Findor, who is unlikely to be nicer than Gin was. But if he is, he'll be working in my favor as well.'

'How?' the girl inquired though gritted teeth.

'I will not tell you that,' the Primera responded. 'You need to trust me.'

'Why don't you bloody trust me for a change, ha?' she growled. The Arrancar's reiatsu writhed in pain, but the chain that painfully restrained Hisagi's breath did not loosen.

'Go see what they are up to, Lilinette,' Stark said, softly. It had not been a command; it had sounded more like a plea, and though her pretty features were crumpled into a mask of terrifying rage, she did not yet have sufficient power to refuse. 'Leave him to me.'

When Findor came back to his senses, amid the crumbled ruins of the tower, the first thing he saw was Hisagi Shuuhei, wrapped tightly in his own released shikai, and barely able to draw breath. Neither Lilinette nor Stark were anywhere in sight, and, had he been totally, exactly truthful to himself, Findor would not have been able to swear he remembered either of them ever being there.

Which was all for the best, Findor thought, dragging himself to his feet. He would have preferred to have done this all on his own, and he knew Barragan would have preferred the same.

* * *

Up next - Szayel Aporro is in a bit of a tight spot, and Tesla is looking for someone to adopt him.

(I would...)


	54. Author's Note

Aha, here we go.

This has stayed up for far longer than needed - many thanks to all those who have read it and given me a kind word :)

The next chapter of Understanding will be up towards the end of the week. It looks like the manga is heading into battles, and hasn't switched to thirty chapters of Ichigo vs. Ulquiorra. The break will probably be a short one.

In the meanwhile, since I am posessed by the evil Bleach demon, some pre-Understanding snippets will come up now and again. If you stumble upon them, I hope you enjoy.


	55. In the Open

Good evening all :) A long aggresive chat to keep y'all busy till the next long chat - predictably, poor Tesla does not get a line in this one. Because I said he would, and he got very, very shy and hid under the bed, refusing to speak to me. Could it be because he sees himself as the hero of a very M story, featuring Szayel Aporro and Nnoitra, shamelessly inspired off Blue SystemA's doujinshi? Hm?

In any event, aside for my warm encouragement to read Blue SystemA (READ HER AND **BUY** HER STUFF, SZAYEL FANGIRLS - she's talented, inspired and hot, and sadly, speaks no word of English...), I'd like to thank you for your reads and reviews, and especially for your patience. Just as previously stated, I will draw the chapters out a little, and see where the manga goes. Since, however, I do not only go shamelessly plugging other folks, but can shamelessly plug myself too - do not think I am letting the kids out of my sight. If I am admitting to being unable to write the future, I'm sticking to writing the past. If you're enjoying Understanding, and you are an M person (which you should be since this is an M story!), check out **Just Before Dawn**. It be a small incursion in things that happened before Understanding itself, and the proof that I am not procrastinating :)  

(...and the anime is back! (yay!))

Thank y'all for being here :D

Chapter 54 - Where Grimmjow speaks his mind.

...uhm, yes, that means LANGUAGE. Beware tha language, dudes (and ladies)....

* * *

'Ishida!' Renji called.

The silence on the other end of the receiver was too long for his liking; he clenched his teeth, and jolted Zabimaru's tip an inch up. Much to the Shinigami's lieutenant's horror, though the blade was almost at his throat, Szayel Aporro continued to smile.

'I am innocent of whatever it is you're thinking right now, vice-captain Abarai,' Szayel purred, defensively raising his palms as Byakuya approached from behind, gazing at him with tense attention.

'Scum,' Renji hissed, between his teeth. 'Ishida!' he repeated, in such a loud voice that the Octava unwillingly cringed. 'Bloody hell…'

'Yes, Abarai,' Ishida finally responded, and though Renji sighed with audible relief, his scowl did not fade. 'I have you on speakers, so I do not appreciate the yelling. What happened?'

'Why are you not watching the bloody panels?' the Shinigami snapped.

'Maybe he popped out for a cigarette,' Szayel innocently put in.

'I do _not _smoke,' the Quincy protested, with the tone of one who'd just been accused of axe murder.

'Ah, so you simply have a pack as a fashion accessory,' the Octava remarked softly.

'It's my father's backpack…'

'Dude, you've got cigarettes?' Grimmjow's voice resounded clearly in the background. '…the fuck, if you ain't using 'em, pass them along.'

'Grimmjow, is there any bad habit you don't have?' Ichigo had muttered.

'You oughta see me drink, Kurosaki!'

'That's the last thing I wanna see,' the substitute Shinigami responded. 'Though I'm not sure that I'd be able to tell the difference.' A female, probably Neliel, giggled lightly in the background.

'How in God's name do you know what's in my backpack, Szayel Aporro?' Ishida asked, trying to ignore the two behind him.

'He's got fucking X-ray vision,' Grimmjow commented, in good humor. 'Uses it to check out other people's bits, before he decides if they're worth a go or not…'

'For the love of God, Grimmjow…'

Ishida sighed deeply.

'Yes, so,' he said, coughing to adjust his voice, 'as you can probably hear, Kurosaki is back, and he's got Inoue. I was away from the panels for a second when they came in.'

'Is everyone alright?' Unohana inquired.

'Yes,' Isane responded. 'We just couldn't get, eh…captain Kenpachi to come back,' she apologetically added. 'He said he's having too much fun…with…'

'Cutting shit apart,' Grimmjow completed for her. 'A man after my own heart,' he added, with obvious admiration.

Unohana and Kuchiki exchanged a glance; the woman shrugged, then shifted her glance to Szayel Aporro, as if reminding Byakuya of other matters on hand.

'What's going on at your end?' Ishida asked. 'Haven't heard anything for the past half an hour. Did you make it past whatever made Szayel curse?'

'You shouldn't have stood away from the panels,' Renji said, pushing Szayel Aporro another step back.

'What is it?' Ishida asked again; the background noise died down.

'What I thought was going to happen from the very beginning,' Renji said, with no small amount of satisfaction. 'And it turns out I was right to watch him…'

'To cut the suspense, vice-captain Abarai thinks he has caught me with my hand in the cookie jar, my dear Quincy,' Szayel lightly responded. 'And I fear he is hell-bent on conducting a full body search, which I am scarcely in the position to refuse. Though,' he added, in a coy tone, 'if I may make a request, if we absolutely must go through with it, I'd much more prefer for it to be done by captain Kuchiki. At least then, aside from being pointless, the exercise will be mildly pleasurable.'

Byakuya's upper lip tensed in disgust, but the Octava's alluring smile did not falter.

'Szayel Aporro's been spying on us, Quincy,' Renji put in, between clenched teeth. 'He's practically wearing his entire bloody lab, and waiting for one of us to release a Bankai in his presence, so he can feed it back into his machines.'

'The clothes change,' Ishida breathed.

'It is really mostly for aesthetic purposes,' Szayel whispered, biting his lower lip. 'All of my uniforms are similarly fitted…'

'Scum,' Renji spat, with such hatred that Szayel finally swallowed dry.

The pace of his breathing hadn't changed, but his heart was racing madly, a little vein pulsing on the side of his throat, under the Zanpakutoh's tip.

'Er,' Ichigo said. By the tone of his voice, Renji imagined the human had been scratching his head. 'I understand this is bad, since everyone has suddenly become silent and tense, but…what happens if he feeds the stuff into the machines?'

'He learns how to repress the Bankai,' Neliel Tu said, softly. 'He learns how to take away your reiatsu. That's what he did to me.'

'And myself and Ishida,' Abarai completed. 'And I find it very strange, I must say, that he is still looking for ways in which to defeat us, although we are, supposedly, working together.'

'This warrants a very detailed explanation,' Byakuya said, dryly – he placed his hand on Renji's shoulder, gently pushing his aside, and glancing at the Arrancar with the cold, hard leer that always made Renji want to melt into the ground. 'Not a very wordy one.' He warned.

'I am very bad at expressing myself briefly under pressure,' Szayel pouted.

'Try,' Byakuya answered.

'Yes, yes, of course, but could we do away with…' he graciously pointed at Renji's blade. Abarai's scowl grew even more menacing. 'All right, then, I assume not,' the Octava merrily said. 'I just hope your hand won't tremble with excitement or righteous indignation,' he concluded, with a winning smile.

'That was neither brief, nor an explanation,' Byakuya said, his hand resting on Senbonzakura's hilt.

'There is nothing to explain,' Szayel sighed. 'The fact that the sensors happen to be here does not imply that they were in use, dear captain Kuchiki. In fact, if they denote anything, they show that I was somewhat in a hurry to reach this chamber and did not have time to remove them…'

'Bollocks,' Renji interrupted.

'I am being sincere,' the Octava continued, golden eyes filled with sweet innocence and fingers splayed over his heart. 'There is nothing to worry about.'

'Whenever he says that, you know that there is something to worry about,' Neliel Tu's voice hissed from the receiver. It had been so cold and hate filled that, back at the lab, Ichigo had given her a small, questioning glance.

She hadn't been looking his way, her grey gaze directed at the screens, so the human's eyes drifted to Grimmjow; unlike Neliel, Grimmjow briefly met his glance and sustained for a few seconds. The expression in his electric blue eyes had been different from anything Ichigo had learned to expect from Grimmjow – neither furious nor rebellious, but sheer, concentrated and tense attention. There was, however, no trace of surprise.

'Did you know about this?' Ichigo asked, in such a low hiss that Grimmjow could certainly have the excuse of not having heard it. He certainly acted as if he hadn't. He simply turned away from Ichigo's leer and faced the panels.

'It is in fact, quite easy to clear my name,' Szayel Aporro purred. 'If you recall, I removed some of the functionality from the panels before I left. Do you have a vague memory of that, Quincy?'

'I do,' Ishida responded, in an unconvinced tone. 'But I do not know what functionality your panels were meant to have in the first place.'

'Ask Nemu-chan,' Szayel light-heartedly suggested. 'She should more than able to explain.'

There was a brief pause, and some faint, shuffling noise, as those gathered in front of the laboratory panels turned towards the back of the chamber.

Surprised by the attention, Nemu blinked twice before mechanically responding.

'Four types of reiatsu are required the device to be fully enabled,' she said. 'How many are presently there?'

'Erm,' Ishida said, hesitantly, 'two.'

'Then the main controls have basic arithmetic functionality and the reiatsu synthesis machine is enabled,' she declared, no trace of doubt in her voice.

Byakuya's eyes shot to his vice-captain, making him frown in stubborn disbelief, and Szayel offered an innocent, forgiving shrug.

'You'd need the third type of reiatsu for any reiatsu processing to occur,' he said, softly. 'I am sorry, vice-captain Abarai, but you are barking up an entirely wrong tree…'

'I'm not so sure,' Renji spat.

'I don't know, Abarai,' Ishida said, questioningly. 'I'm looking at the panels, and they are still very much under my control. Nothing has changed – the screen hasn't flicked, there has been no sign of anything recording or incoming.'

'Thank you, Ishida,' Szayel rushed to concur. 'I knew your intelligence could be counted on…'

'You stood away, Quincy,' Byakuya said.

'Yes, but not out of eyeshot,' Ishida protested, his voice suddenly cold. His lower jaw had suddenly tensed, Ichigo noted.

'Nonetheless, Quincy, you stood away.' The captain of the sixth repeated.

'Byakuya, really,' Ichigo began; his reaction was entirely too late.

'Are you saying you cannot trust me?' Ishida exploded.

'That's not what he said,' Renji answered, in a shaky tone – his sword arm trembled too, as he questioningly glanced at his captain.

'No,' Unohana intervened, kindly. 'That is not what he meant, Ishida.'

The Quincy drew a deep breath.

'I only stood away for half a second,' he muttered. The anger in his voice had no truly subsided, but it was better kept in check. 'I am sure taking a reading of your Bankai would take marginally longer than that, Kuchiki.'

'Marginally,' Szayel agreed, in a small chuckle. 'So, vice-captain Abarai,' he reiterated, in a honey sweet voice, sensuously running his fingers along Zabimaru's edge, 'let's do a small revision of the facts. The panels do not have reiatsu analytic capacity at the moment and no change was recorded in the machines – thus, might it be correct to logically conclude that _nothing_ happened?'

'No,' Abarai grunted.

'Can we return to pretending we're friends?' Szayel Aporro whispered.

'No,' the Shinigami responded. Nonetheless, his sword wavered, giving Szayel the opportunity of pushing it an inch away from his throat.

'Lumina's not here.'

Renji's arm stiffened – for a second, a single second, Szayel Aporro's glance was no longer sweet. In fact, Renji thought, grinning wide, and resolutely pressing the blade up, he had never seen such desperate panic concentrated in such a short lapse of time as Neliel Tu's remark seemed to have cause in Szayel.

Abarai's eyes narrowed.

'I cannot be held accountable for Lumina's whereabouts,' Szayel answered, and though he had fought it, his voice had trembled, ever so slightly. 'She is prone to highly unexpected naps or perhaps she had previously scheduled duties. The fact that she is not there proves nothing.'

'If nothing has changed on these panels,' the former Tercera had continued, her voice growing louder as she leaned in, closer to the microphone, 'it's not because he's not doing anything. It's because he's got a secondary set of panels somewhere, and Lumina is in control of them.'

It was not her quick thinking that surprised Ichigo; it wasn't even the tremendous satisfaction with which she had uttered the phrase, nor the fact that Ishida's eyes had suddenly darkened, as if the Quincy had instinctively realized she must have been right. Nor was it, Ichigo thought, the fact that behind them, Verona had emitted a small, high pitched squeal and ducked behind an instrument rack. He noted all of those things, but none was of the nature to inspire as much surprise and concern as he suddenly felt.

What made Ichigo's heart sink was the fact that, at the very last moment, Grimmjow had inched towards Neliel Tu, grabbing her wrist as if preparing to stop her from speaking. She didn't seem to have noticed or cared, but the Sexta's glance had become furious and cold – reproachful, Ichigo realized. As if Neliel had just said something she should not have.

'Your confidence in my abilities gives me a tremendous boost of morale, Neliel Tu,' Szayel Aporro said, his voice interrupting Ichigo's thoughts. 'Yet, sadly, for as much as I would have liked to, I was unable to create a mirrored set of machinery, due to time constraints…It is, indeed, planned, for later in the year, but for the moment, I assure you that…'

'You wouldn't have to replicate the entire hardware,' Ishida interrupted, softly. 'You'd just have to replicate the controls.'

His voice had had an odd ring too, Ichigo thought. There was a certain amount of well disguised disappointment, which, the Substitute Shinigami thought, was not unlike what he'd felt while catching a glimpse of Grimmjow's reaction to Neliel's words. Perhaps Ishida had wanted to trust Szayel Aporro just as much as Ichigo himself wanted to trust Grimmjow – if nagging doubts about their loyalties could be dismissed, everything would be so much simpler…Things could return to their normal state, the good guys against the bad guys, with Szayel Aporro, and Grimmjow, and especially Nel, finally and unequivocally placed in the _good guys_ camp. It only made sense, Ichigo thought, looking at the Quincy. In the end, Szayel Aporro's temperament, as well as skills and knowledge, were far more similar to Ishida's own than the temperament and behavior of any of the others…give or take odd sexual vibes, cannibalism and undeath, Ichigo admitted, nodding to himself.

Yet, beside the disappointment, Ishida's voice had carried something else, as well. It had sounded distant, as if the Quincy's mind had drifted to another question than the one on hand. And, since Ichigo had already forgotten about the inconspicuous, blinking LED, he could not truly fathom what that question could have been.

'I think you're more than capable of replicating the controls,' Ishida said, softly. 'I think you're even capable of making them mobile.'

In the semi obscurity of Gin's control chamber, and under Byakuya's unrelenting stare, Szayel Aporro finally cringed.

Ishida adjusted his glasses, and took a deep breath; not an excited one, but one of a person who was preparing for a thoroughly unpleasant task.

'Spare yourself the humiliation of making me rummage through your lab trying to find them,' he said, softly. 'It's in nobody's interest.'

'Unnecessary.' Nemu said, dryly – all turned towards her once more, and just as Szayel's sigh drifted out of the speakers.

'What?' Ichigo asked, frowning.

'If the requirement is proving that Captain Kuchiki's reiatsu was recorded and is being analyzed,' Nemu continued, blankly staring at the substitute Shinigami, 'seeking the secondary panels is unnecessary.'

'No good deed goes unpunished, ey, Ishida?' Szayel Aporro said. His voice denoted amusement, but also surrender – he'd finally broken eye contact with Renji, and simply slinked back against one of the damaged panels, awaiting the end. The sight was not as gratifying as Renji had thought it would be. The obvious regret in the Quincy's voice, as well as the fact that the Arrancar's last remark had sounded oddly sincere rendered Renji's victory shallow.

Still, to everyone's surprise, Nemu stopped speaking. Her chin jolted mechanically to the side, and her gaze stuck to the floor.

She doesn't want to say it, Ishida thought, biting his lower lip. Because he helped her…he helped _us, _asking for nothing in return – the mere fact that Nemu was capable of processing the emotion and acted on it made the Quincy feel tremendous pain, but also tremendous joy.

'Nemu,' Isane whispered, 'if you know how…'

The vice-captain of the twelfth division looked up, not seeking Isane's glance, but Ishida's.

Against all logic, it was still Szayel Aporro who spoke next.

'That's alright, Nemu-chan,' he said, with kindness that made Renji shudder. 'You can tell them how to prove themselves right; it will take them another hour to figure it out on their own. You can show them that even though you have half a soul, you're the only one among them in possession of a complete brain.'

The Arrancar looked up, rebelliously meeting and sustaining Kuchiki's glance.

'Intelligence has no morality,' he said, softly. 'Bright things should never be afraid of being bright.'

Byakuya frowned; for some reason, it felt as if he'd just been slapped.

'Capacity,' Nemu said, her mechanically even voice breaking the silence – Szayel lowered his glance and shook his head, disguising a smile.

'Beautiful,' he whispered, almost to himself. 'Go on.'

'If Captain Kuchiki's reiatsu was recorded, the storage capacity of the machine will now be lower. Since we are lacking an initial reference point, however, the alternate would be checking the processing capacity.' Nemu continued. 'The analytics model is heavy; if it is running in the background…'

'The arithmetic processor will be working in overdrive,' Ishida completed for her; with but a few clicks, he brought up a screen which showed the machine's statistics – and not even Ichigo needed anyone to interpret the fact that the line which showed the workload of the primary processor ran red.

Grimmjow cursed.

'Bravo,' Szayel said, 'an outstanding demonstration. There is nothing I can possibly add to that. Or am I expected to add anything?' he asked, arching an eyebrow.

'You can further elaborate on how much Aizen knows of all of this,' Byakuya said, dryly. 'And, since it is probably the last thing you will tell us, I am willing to allow you to make it wordy.'

'Unfortunately, the answer to that one cannot possibly be wordy,' Szayel replied, with a smirk. 'Aizen has nothing to do with this.'

'If you expect us to believe that, after what we've just seen,' Neliel Tu hissed, 'you're deluding yourself. I should have known,' she laughed softly. 'The mere fact that you were so quick and happy to distract everyone with your hate filled speech against Stark…'

'Shut up,' Grimmjow snarled, yet none but Ichigo noticed the cutting glance exchanged between the two Espada.

'Whether you personally find the fact that I am not collaborating with Aizen believable or not is irrelevant,' Szayel responded, in a thoroughly tired voice. 'There is nothing left to discover; I am, sadly, quite literally fully exposed.'

'Until the next set of well kept secrets crawls out of the woodwork,' Neliel sneered.

Szayel ignored her.

'What are you going to do now, vice-captain Abarai?' he sweetly inquired, not drawing away, but inching closer to the sword. 'I congratulate you, though you are woefully unintelligent, you do seem to possess good instincts. I will admit to being _caught_. How shall we proceed? What can you possibly do?'

'Kill him,' Neliel Tu said.

Renji did not even get the time to process the short, snappy response before Ishida's panicked voice erupted in his ear.

'No!' the Quincy exclaimed. 'If you do, Nemu…'

Byakuya smirked.

'Ah, yes, indeed,' Szayel softly uttered. 'You'd forgotten about that little technical detail. Or, you are liable not to care, hm?'

'You cannot hold this over us forever, Octava Espada,' Kuchiki answered. 'Even if you do apply your resurrection ability, you will come back trapped in your own cell; it should then be simple…'

'Kuchiki,' Ishida breathed. 'How can you even consider such a thing!'

'There's no need to kill him to render him harmless,' Renji intervened, casting an uncertain, almost frightened glance at his captain's impossibly cold features. 'If we tie him up real tight with a Bakudo, gag him and toss him in a corner, we can deal with him after we've dealt with his master.'

'I am not collaborating with Aizen,' Szayel spat.

'No, of course not – you're just being diligent.' Renji smirked.

'If you will,' Szayel answered, dryly. 'Diligent is, in fact the exact term that I'd use…'

'We can deal with him after we've dealt with his master,' Abarai harshly interrupted. 'There has to be some sort of time limit or distance limit on that disgusting ability of his…'

'He cannot use it cross world,' Neliel Tu said. 'That's why he's never been to the human world – because he can only use Gabriel in Hueco Mundo.'

'That's enough, Neliel Tu,' Grimmjow growled, loudly and furiously enough for all to hear him; he'd reacted as if he'd been able to see the dimensions of the grin that had flourished on Renji's features. 'You're done talking,' he added, taking a step back from the panels only to circle behind Ishida's chair and lean in on top of Neliel Tu; he grabbed her wrists, pinning them to the board and keeping them still before the Tercera could even motion for her sword. Then, standing behind her, he lowered his head so that he spoke directly in her ear, his face so close to hers that the Hollow jaw drew blood from her cheek. 'You're done talkin'.'

'Grimmjow, what the fuck…'Ichigo began, unsheathing Zangetsu as all drew aside in surprise.

The hiss of the blade behind him did not impress Grimmjow in the least. His entire fury was concentrated on Neliel, whom he gripped so tightly that her hands had suddenly grown white.

'I dunno what you're trying to achieve,' he hissed, in such a low voice, that even Neliel could barely hear him, while all the others could only see his lips moving. 'but I can assure you that acting like a dumb, submissive cunt won't get you anywhere near Kurosaki's goodies.'

Neliel's eyes widened in shock.

'Grimmjow, get away from her,' Ichigo repeated.

'What's happening?' Szayel asked, with audible panic.

'Nothing, dude,' Grimmjow snarled, out loud. 'I'm giving Nellie girl a small talk 'bout the fucking facts of life.'

To Renji's surprise, Szayel grew pale; not only his cheeks, the Shinigami noticed. All blood seemed to have instantly drained from his chest as well – for the first time, the Octava attempted to move out of Zabimaru's reach, and not even Senbonsakura's half drawn blade could make him focus on his own predicament.

'Neleil Tu is simply imparting correct information. There is no need to…'

'Oh, yeah, there's a definite need to do exactly what I'm doing. An' ya should feel blessed that Stark's not here, woman, cuz he'd rip your face off for this.' Grimmjow continued.

'Leave her alone, Grimmjow,' Szayel repeated faintly.

'D'ya hear him?' he continued, addressing only Neliel. 'You were just out for his balls, but if I keep ya pinned for thirty seconds longer he's likely to admit to being Satan's whore, if it gets me off ya. Do you not even wonder why that is?'

'I don't care,' she snarled in response. 'I don't care for his mind games...'

'Grimmjow, I'm giving you a count of ten,' Ichigo warned.

The Sexta simply looked over his shoulder and cackled madly.

'Don't see you as one who can count that far, dude,' he answered.

'One,' Ichigo spat.

Manic fury still raging in his eyes, Grimmjow yet again leaned over Neliel's shoulder.

'Szayel Aporro's not workin' with Aizen, you dumb bitch' he whispered.

'How can you know?' she asked, in response; her reiatsu was rising menacingly, causing his fingers and his cheek to feel damp.

'Cuz I understand what he's doing, and I know what he's doing it _for,'_ Grimmjow replied. 'An' if you could get your mind off getting even with him, you'd see it too.'

'Two,' Ichigo said on an increasingly menacing tone.

'I have no confidence that he has not turned to Aizen when the chance was offered,' Neliel replied. 'Regardless of what you think, Grimmjow…'

'Let me give you something to have confidence in, then,' the Sexta said. 'If we get defensive an' encourage them take _him_ out for being on the lookout, they're gonna take me out right after for being a fucking menace. An' after they take him an' me out Nellie girl, who's gonna be next? Who d'ya think they're gonna mistrust and get rid of next? Huh?'

Her eyes widened and her lower jaw tensed; Ichigo's 'three' went unnoticed.

'When I look around, Nellie girl,' Grimmjow continued, in a deceivingly sweet voice, 'I only see one other that has a fucking hole in the middle of their chest and a fat ass tattoo with a number on their shoulder.'

She bit her lip and remained silent.

'An' no amount of bootlicking is gonna make them overlook that, you stupid woman. If they decide they ain't gonna trust us, they're just gonna keep finding reasons to keep us in leash.' he concluded, fiercely. 'If they truly bloody intended to trust us, they wouldn't have been watching Szayel with sixty eyes. So from now on, Nellie girl, you stay quiet and let me do the talkin'.'

'I refuse to trust Szayel Aporro,' she spat.

'I don't give a shit what you refuse to do,' he cuttingly returned. 'If you can't think, just keep your mouth shut before I shut it for you. An' I ain't joking,' he finished, pushing himself off her. 'There you go, Kurosaki,' he said, out loud, and in a merry tone, turning to face the human boy. 'All yours, dude. Did ya make it as high as five, in your count?'

'What are you playing at, Grimmjow?' Ichigo asked, protectively stretching Zangetsu in front of Orihime and Isane. 'What did you tell Nel?'

'That you've already got a pair of hands down your shorts and you don't need another,' Grimmjow grinned, looking straight at Orihime and making her blush fiercely. 'Ya still with the unrighteous dead, Szayel Aporro?' he asked, his attention abruptly shifting from Ichigo.

'Just barely,' the Octava answered, in a concerned voice.

'Can Kuchiki hear me?' Grimmjow asked, looking towards the ceiling.

'Of course' Szayel Aporro responded, sounding offended.

'Then listen up, pretty boy,' the Sexta sneered. 'Let me give _you _some facts before you dig yourself into a pile of shit. Let me, so to speak, enlighten you.'

In Gin's control room, Byakuya frowned, the corners of his lips drawing dangerously outwards.

'Your paranoid attitude is starting to get on my nerves in a real bad way, dude. And I ain't gonna put up with it till the end of time; in fact, it's gonna end, right here, right now. To signal the beginning of the end, Kuchiki, you're gonna call pineapple kid off Szayel Aporro, effective an hour ago.'

The look of surprise and confusion on Ichigo's face perfectly reflected the look that instantly took hold of Renji and Szayel Aporro's features, though the three were miles away from each other.

'The line of communication must be damaged,' Byakuya responded, in a tone of voice that made Rukia and Renji's blood freeze. 'I thought I just heard you issuing an order, Grimmjow Jaggerjaques.'

'I ain't issuing orders,' Grimmjow snarled, 'I'm just telling you how the shit stands. And even if I was issuing orders, Kuchiki, I ain't aware of no directive which made me, or Szayel Aporro, or quick-draw Neliel Tu go to bed Espada and wake up under _your_ command. We're collaborating with ya cuz we have a common goal, or more correctly, a common enemy; we're not your subordinates, and we aren't under any obligation to ask for permission every time we plan to sneeze.'

'Nor, dude,' the Sexta said, 'do we need to be called turncoats every time that we do sneeze without your permission.'

'I hardly think that Szayel Aporro wearing his intestines outside of his body and then lying about it is a case of mild sneezing,' Renji menacingly muttered.

'Ain't talking to ya, pineapple kid.' Grimmjow snapped. 'You don't have even the half of brain that I choose to use. Cuz if you did, you'd realize that Szayel Aporro doesn't need a reason to want to know half of the shit he wants to know. He just wants to know it, cuz he's fucking obsessive compulsive about it. If he'd been paired up with me, he'd be doing the exact same thing.'

'I kept trying to reiterate that point,' Szayel shrugged, his innocent grin returning. 'All my uniforms are similarly accessorized – and by now, vice captain Abarai, you should know that I am scarcely the type to renounce a clear opportunity when it presents itself.'

'Then why'd ya lie about it? And went to such lengths to…'

'What more reason does he need than your reaction?' Grimmjow answered, instead of Szayel Aporro. 'His guts are yellow as chicken shit, and he lies though his teeth as a hobby, but he ain't working with Aizen. Aizen doesn't need Szayel's machines to beat ya – he didn't need them when he crossed, and he won't need'em now. Szayel Aporro's collecting stuff for himself, because he's like a magpie and likes collecting shiny things; if you're gonna try to have his neck for that, you might as well have his neck for everything else that's in his off-pissing nature, like the bloody bubble gum hair an' the fact that he looks over other guys' asses.'

'The mere existence of the second set of panels…'Byakuya began, in an irritated tone that Ichigo might otherwise have found funny.

'Ya, and he has a second set of controls,' Grimmjow rudely interrupted. 'And? Castle Doom is his house; you're guests in it. If someone lets you chill in their living room, it don't mean he's gotta show you the box of vibrating goodies under his bed. Szayel Aporro has no reason to show you all of his toys. They're his toys, and none of your bloody business.'

'How can you be so sure he is not collaborating with Aizen?' Byakuya inquired, not sounding in the least convinced.

'Because if he'd picked Aizen, you'd be dead by now,' Grimmjow said, dryly. 'No one knows this mass grave better than Szayel Aporro – if he ain't led you down a three hundred foot hole, it's because he's helping you for real. You people in the control chamber?'

The reply tarried.

'Ya gone deaf?' Grimmjow repeated. 'Ya in the control chamber?'

'Yes,' Byakuya reluctantly responded.

'Then what the fuck more do you want?'

'Honesty,' Neliel Tu hissed, but the Sexta's furious stare was enough to render her quiet.

'He ain't signed a note that said he's not gonna take your stats. He's rather slash his wrists than do that; all he's signed up to is helping ya find the Hougyaku, and that's precisely what he's doin'. So lay _the fuck_ off.'

'I am afraid that is not a likely course of action,' Byakuya answered; the anger in his voice had seeped though to Ichigo's bones, making him shudder.

'It should be the only course of action, dude. Cuz I'm tellin' ya – Aizen ain't pushed you to your knees without even frowning, and he ain't never ordered you on a mission knowin' that you'd die. You got no clue of the chances we're taking with you fuckers…'

Grimmjow's voice broke, and, in the control chamber, Szayel Aporro took a deep breath and looked away, not only from Unohana's glance, but away from the world.

'You have no clue of what was offered and what both of us refused,' the Octava said, in a soft voice.

'Also,' Grimmjow picked up, 'it's not only that we need you, dude. I acknowledge we bleedin' need ya. I even already told ya as much. I reckon, however, that it's high time you acknowledge ya need _us_ as well. Your crew in the human world…how many are they? Like, five? They ain't never seen anything like Halibel or Barragan, and they sure as hell ain't seen something like Stark. So unless y'all can find your way out to help them, they're toast. An' after that, you're toast, flower boy, unless ya can find a way outta here.'

'An' the only way outta here you've got, the only way outta here any of us got, is the gay dude with the pink hair. You'd better hope and pray that he can work them panels, cuz I can't do it and you can't do it. And while you're hoping and praying, you'd better cut him some slack.'

'I am not your servant,' Szayel whispered.

'Neither am I,' Grimmjow added, his fiery glance meeting Ichigo's. 'So lemme make this simple for ya, Kuchiki. D'ya doubt my word?'

Byakuya's response tarried again.

'Kurosaki,' the Sexta drawled. 'Do you doubt me, when I'm telling I'm not working with Aizen?'

Ichigo frowned, and, aware of all the glances that had suddenly trained on him, pinning him down, he said the first thing that came to his mind.

'No,' Ichigo said. 'I don't think you're working with Aizen.'

'So,' Grimmjow said, 'I'm gonna make a stand right here, right now; I'm telling you Szayel is not working with Aizen either. It goes the same for the both of us. Either you believe that we ain't working with Aizen, or ya don't. If ya do, you're gonna stop the shit body checking and act like partners, not bloody masters. If ya don't, you keep trying to push Szayel Aporro to the wall – but I gotta warn you, people, I gotta warn ya – if you as much as reach to take Fornicares away from him, I'm gonna do bloody murder. I'm gonna do bloody murder, and none of y'all is close enough to stop me. Because if you're determined to treat me like an animal, I might as well start acting like one,' Grimmjow snarled. 'From now on, when you accuse any of us, you accuse us all, an' you'd better think hard and fast before you draw; when you draw, you draw against all of us, too,' he added, the words forming in his chest, rather than in his throat. 'So, given that you need us to get your asses out…Kuchiki…'

He breathed deeply.

'Kurosaki…' he said, in a voice that was not his own.

'Leave Szayel Aporro the hell alone,' Grimmjow finished. 'Leave him alone.'

Byakuya did not hurry to react; he half turned, questioningly glancing at Unohana. In turn, the woman did not speak – she contented herself on glancing about the room, as if inviting Byakuya to do the same. The gesture was an answer in itself; if the machinery that controlled the Garganta was in the room, it was highly unlikely that anyone would be able to restore it.

'A while longer,' she said, softly; her words had been uttered too quietly for the sound receptors to pick up, but the veiled threat had not been lost on Szayel Aporro.

Kuchiki turned around completely and walked away; Renji's sword stayed to Szayel's throat for a few more seconds, until, with slow and frustrated gestures, Abarai sheathed it and moved away in his turn.

Szayel Aporro grinned.

'I'm watching you,' Byakuya shot over his shoulder; the Arrancar's grin grew even wider.

'I'm flattered,' he purred.

Still, when he turned towards the panels, attempting to regain focus, his smile subsided and he needed to lay his palms flat to stop them from shaking. This had been close. But it didn't matter, Szayel reminded himself. It didn't matter.

_All's well that ends well._

'On the upside, Grimmjow, I can finally see what _he _saw in you,' Szayel Aporro said, merrily. On the other side of Las Noches Grimmjow's hollow teeth ground together, with a sickening sound.

'Who?' Ichigo asked, in confusion.

'Ilfordt,' Grimmjow replied curtly, and the still dumb folded Shinigami shook his head at the unknown name. 'Fucking hell, Szayel Aporro, a _thank you_ would have worked fine.'

* * *

Up next - Hmm, how does this sound? GrimmIchi! (They talk, people, they talk :)) Like, philosophy an' stuff...Mostly stuff, though.


	56. The Complex Set

Good evening all :) As promised, GrimmIchi tonight. Long and charged.

Thank you all for reading and commenting - this week's response was so much more than I had even dared hope for :) And many thanks, Maidros for bearing with me.

....aaaand I hope Uki and Shunsui get it on soon in the manga...

Chapter 56 - Where Grimmjow wishes he was a better villain.

* * *

Ich wünsche der Menschheit einen Supergau,

Das die Erde auseinander fällt,

Und dann hau ich mir selber meine Augen blau, denn ich hasse mich und diese Welt.

Einmal möchte ich ein Böser sein, eine mieße Sau,

Einmal richtig hundsgemein,für einen Tag genau.

Einmal möchte ich ein Böser sein, graußam und brutal

Und dann zieh ich meine Spur durch dieses Jammertal ...

---- Erste Allegemeine Verunsicherung, Einmal Moeche Ich ein Boeser Sein.

_I wish a Supernova explosion on humanity,_

_That this Earth falls asunder,_

_And by the blue colour of my eyes – I hate myself and this world…_

_Just once, I wish I were true evil,_

_An uncaring pig, a common dog – if only for one day._

_Just once, I wish I was truly gruesome and brutal,_

_Perhaps, if I was, I could see my way though this veil of tears._

Erste Allegemeine Verunsicherung: The First Uncertainty for All; Einmal...: I wish I were evil once.

I don't think Grimmjow is evil. :)

* * *

Grimmjow turned away from the screens and panels, smirking and shoving his hands in his pockets almost down to the elbow. He shuffled by Ichigo without looking at him, but cast one of his feral, threatening smiles at Orihime before making his way out of the laboratory.

He didn't get far.

He stopped but a few feet outside the door, staring blankly at the wall before him, then, without warning, punched it so hard that the stone cracked as if it had been ice. None of the pieces fell to the floor, and, discontent with the result of his effort, Grimmjow punched the wall again, more forcefully this time.

Then once more, with pure hatred. Whatever he had gained would take neither himself nor Szayel Aporro too far; perhaps, a sense balance had been restored, but Grimmjow did not fool himself into thinking it was anything but unstable and temporary at best. Yet, if Kuchiki had imagined Stark's disappearance had rendered the Arrancar divided and unable to cooperate, he'd imagined wrong – the stand would at least hold counterwheight until Szayel managed to re-open the Garganta. And after that, Grimmjow thought, hissing in open aggression towards an Universe that stubbornly refused to be navigated with fists alone, he could only hope that Aizen and Stark had done bloody murder in the human world, and left the Gotei 13 in desperate need for reinforcements.

But then, of course, if Aizen and Stark had been able to do bloody murder in the human world, Grimmjow very much doubted that Kurosaki's crew would be able to tilt the balance in their favor. And even if they did…

'I fucking hate complications,' he said, knowing that Ichigo had followed him out into the corridor, and also knowing that the Shinigami substitute would say nothing until he did.

'You wanna be alone to think about stuff…or punch stuff, or whatever it is you do?' Ichigo asked, looking at the Espada as if wanting to tell him that after what had just occurred, a positive answer would have triggered all sorts of doubts with his Shinigami companions, but that, from his perspective, it would be forgivable nonetheless.

'Nah, dude,' he answered. 'Thinking gives me acid reflex. But ya look a bit confused. Do _you_ wanna be alone and think about shit?' Grimmjow shot back, arching an ironic eyebrow and putting his hand back in his pocket.

'No,' Ichigo said, lying so transparently and looking so embarassed that the Arrancar chuckled. 'I mean, yeah. I mean…'

Kurosaki did not strike the Arrancar as a particularly introspective fellow; in fact, Grimmjow suspected that Ichigo was just about as introspective as he was, and that, Grimmjow thought, a grin splaying over his features as he waited for Ichigo's response, was as little introspective as anyone could ever, possibly, be. Still, the human's usually determined gaze seemed riddled with doubt, which made him look _weak_.

The thought instantly improved Grimmjow's mood. If he could still needle Kurosaki, things weren't as bad as they could have been.

'Are you _ever_ alone?' Grimmjow asked. The look of confusion, then, the sudden, furious frown on Ichigo's face when the human understood what the Arrancar'd been referring to made him grin with sadistic satisfaction.

'Don't talk about that,' the Shinigami warned; he'd meant to sound menacing, but the glance he'd cast over his shoulder, to the still open door of the laboratory, left little to interpretation.

'You'd never have defeated me without it, whatever the fuck it is,' Grimmjow continued, glancing at the human through curiously narrowed eyes.

'Shut it, Grimmjow,' Ichigo hissed, casting another concerned glance over his shoulder before grabbing the Arrancar's arm and dragging him away. 'You have all the sensibility of a shoe.' Ichigo continued, in a low whisper, once he thought they had been far enough away from the door. 'Only Orihime knows about it, and you saw the look she pulled when she saw it…'

'Yeah, dude, she looked freaked out of her mind,' Grimmjow laughed. 'Dunno why though, ya still looked better than ol'Ulquiorra.'

Ichigo took a few more wide strides before he turned around, eyes blazing with fury, his reply burning on his lips. Still, the look of anticipation on Grimmjow's features made him take a deep breath and swallow his words.

'You're trying to rile me up,' he noted, with a smirk. 'You trying to get into a fistfight or something?'

'Beats the hell outta thinking,' Grimmjow answered, with a grin that was almost innocent.

'Grimmjow,' Ichigo sighed, taking a deep breath, 'you are a dickhead.'

'…been told that,' the Arrancar responded, his grin growing wider, and unpleasantly reminding Ichigo of their first encounter – even conjuring up the image of the Arrancar's fist ripping through Rukia's ribcage. He shuddered and turned away, heading into the corridor.

The Arrancar followed, keeping himself but a few steps behind.

'I didn't think this was going to be this hard and weird,' Ichigo muttered, at long length. 'I thought I was going to come here…'

'Throw your Bankai around, kill the enemy, rescue the chick, get a closer look at the boobs as a reward?' Grimmjow sneered.

'You're a dickhead,' Ichigo answered, without looking over his shoulder.

'Yeah, you already said that.' The Arrancar shrugged. 'But it ain't far from the truth, dude, and I can definitely understand ya; when all of this started, I was also thinkin' I'm gonna throw my Resurrection around, kill the enemy, conquer the world…'

'And be the king of the hill,' the human muttered.

'Well, at least you gotta admit my goals were a bit higher than yours.' Grimmjow laughed. 'Tho', in all fairness, king of the hill does come with a side-dish of womanly attention…'

'Do you ever even _think _about anything else than fighting and sex?' Ichigo burst, turning around.

'I make it a point not to,' the Arrancar answered, making Ichigo throw his arms up in exasperation.

'I have no words,' the substitute Shinigami said; taking a look behind him, and reckoning they had gotten sufficiently far away from the laboratory not to be heard, Ichigo dropped to the floor and crossed his legs, putting Zangetsu aside. He looked up at the Arrancar, and shook his head. 'I really don't get you.'

'But you don't get me either,' Ichigo continued, staring intently at the floor. 'I mean, sure, I came here to get Inoue cuz she's my friend; I came here to beat _you_, cuz you're a dickhead, and I came here to beat Ulquiorra cuz…'

_That's odd._ Ichigo suddenly thought. _I don't remember why I wanted to beat Ulquiorra._

'…but,' he reiterated, the pause in his speech brief enough to go unnoticed, 'I especially came here to beat Aizen cuz he is an evil, treacherous guy, who used me and my friends to get his hands on that gem, and planned to do away with at least a hundred thousand souls just like…'

Lacking for words, he snapped his fingers.

'You,' he continued, softly, 'I can partly get.'

'I thought you just said ya didn't,' Grimmjow observed ironically. Nonetheless, he sat on the opposite side of the corridor, bending his left knee and stretching his right leg.

'Well, I get your hunger,' Ichigo answered. 'Your, I don't know, man, drive. I get it, because when I conjure my mask, that's all I feel, too. Drive to kill, to rip things apart…I was afraid of _him_ for a very long time, because of that.'

'Him?' the Arrancar inquired.

'Yeah, _him_,' Ichigo answered. 'The guy with the mask. He's not me.'

Grimmjow yawned demonstratively.

'…aaand,' he said, 'moving on from your schizoid personality issues…'

'What did you say?' Ichigo frowned.

'Schizoid personality issues,' Grimmjow grinned, causing light to flash across his mask. 'Movin' on from those, Kurosaki.' He repeated, pointedly narrowing his eyes, to demonstrate he did not want his particularly well chosen and completely uncharacteristic wording to be insisted upon. 'Ya were whining about being afraid of your powers. Go on, dude, it makes my day.'

'I wasn't afraid of my powers,' Ichigo smirked. 'I just didn't know if I could control them enough not to destroy everything in my path, friend or foe. I didn't know if _he_, well, I…whatever! Would be able or even want to discriminate between targets. He's so full of rage that there's no thinking whatsoever, and I thought he'd make me turn on everyone.'

'That's fucking weak, Kurosaki,' Grimmjow laughed. 'Whatever's goin' on in your stupid head, you at least gotta be able to sort it out for yourself. Be in control of it. Be its _king._'

'Yes,' Ichigo breathed. 'That's exactly what he said.'

The Arrancar contented himself on a long, searching gaze.

'That's why I think I get you, in part,' the human continued, softly. 'And to be honest, the more I know you, the less I'm afraid of him – cuz even though you are the most aggressive thing I have ever seen, aside Kenpachi, you do pick your targets. I don't know how you pick your targets…'

'Mostly depending on which side of the bed I get up,' Grimmjow smirked.

'Is that why you picked me?' Ichigo asked.

To his surprise, Grimmjow chuckled.

'You wanna know?' he asked, casting a sideways glance at the human. 'Why I picked ya?'

Ichigo nodded.

'You ain't gonna believe this,' the Arrancar smirked. 'An' lookin' back, dude, I can hardly believe it myself.' He drew a deep breath, and looked at the ceiling. 'I picked ya _to impress Aizen._ The very first time,' Grimmjow continued, in a voice that was riddled with disbelief and strong, bitter self-irony, 'I picked ya to impress Aizen.'

'Ulquiorra was sent into the human world to explore,' he continued, 'then come back and show us all what he saw with his eye. See, when we set out, he told us there were three people in the human world with enough reiatsu to put up a fight. He was sent to find y'all, an' I assume, you in particular, then report back.'

'Well,' Ichigo smirked, 'he found me.'

'Yeh,' Grimmjow nodded. 'He found ya, but he didn't fight ya – just like the good puppy he was, he came right back. An' I thought he'd come back with his tail between his legs.'

He shook his head.

'It was a funny thing, Ulquiorra's eye,' the Sexta said, looking at his left hand. 'It showed exactly what he saw, but he controlled it enough for us not to feel whatever it was he felt. So, like with anythin' and everythin', though all of us saw the same shit, everyone read it in different ways.'

'Like?' Ichigo asked.

'Like,' the Arrancar shrugged, 'Halibel for one saw Yammy swallowing two hundred souls in a single fucking breath, an' thought it was proof that after the transformation, we were _the shit_. Nnoitra didn't see anything of interest; LeRoux thought the scene showed lack of moderation – he was a real nutter, that one,' Grimmjow chuckled; his gaze darkened immediately after. 'Stark saw the exact opposite that Halibel did – he didn't see that Yammy breathed in an' two hundred humans died, he only saw that you took Yammy's arm. That a Zanpakutoh _could_ go through a Hierro, and predictably, he concluded we were not _the shit._ He didn't comment,' Grimmjow muttered, mostly to himself, 'but I know that's what he saw.'

'An' I, Kurosaki,' the Sexta continued, 'didn't see any of that. I just saw a chance to beat Ulquiorra without beatin' Ulquiorra. I thought he didn't fight ya cuz he was afraid of ya, tho' I couldn't see why – and I thought to myself, well, if I kill something that even Schiffer's afraid of, then…'

'Then Aizen was gonna look at you in a different way.' Ichigo concluded for him. 'With more respect, maybe.'

'Yeah,' the Sexta answered dryly. ''Cuz after I passed though the gem, I sorta got the courage to admit that there's more than one way of becoming king. Me and Ulquiorra were after the same thing…'

'What did you want?'

'Hueco Mundo, you idiot,' Grimmjow laughed. 'What else, dude? If Aizen does manage to overthrow the world, you can bet an arm an' a leg that he won't rule it out of Las Noches. Aizen had Ulquiorra coined for the part, from day one. I thought I could change his mind. But I couldn't stick to it, an' that's proof that I shouldn't have even tried. It was only after that that it got personal with ya, Kurosaki.'

'You really looked up to him, didn't you,' Ichigo whispered, kindly.

'It was only then that it got personal,' Grimmjow snarled, baring a canine to warn Ichigo away from the turn of conversation; the human searchingly gazed at him for a few seconds longer, and decided to take a different route.

'The next time I saw you after that night, you were missing an arm.' He said, in a neutral tone. 'I know what you said, then, but I really doubt you chewed it off yourself. Though the more I know you, the more I wouldn't put it past you,' he suddenly smiled; the Arrancar relaxed and smiled in return.

The strange pride and hint of warmth in his eyes vanished quickly, however, and he pressed his lips together.

'Tousen cut it off,' he said briefly. 'As punishment for my acting out of turn, he said, but he's had it in for me since he laid eyes on me for the first time…well, so to speak. Dunno what they were like when they were in Sereitei, dude, but I doubt _that_ was allowed.'

'No,' Ichigo muttered, cranking his nose in disgust. 'Maybe that's why they left it – though don't get me wrong, not all of Sereitei is cool with me, I know them at least well enough to understand none of the other captains…'

'Yeh, well, Aizen ain't like any of the others,' Grimmjow interrupted.

'Ya,' Ichigo exclaimed, leaning forward and clenching his fist. 'He's not – so he took it upon himself to betray them all, stab his lieutenant in the back, and come here, where he made you with the purpose of having things to command and punish as he likes, like he was God or something…'

'See, that's why I don't understand him at all,' the human boy continued, hotly. 'You wanna fight and tear things apart, but you have some sort of purpose, like, I dunno, putting Ulquiorra to shame or bashing my skull in, and after you're done with that you're just gonna pick someone else, and keep doing that until somebody bashes your skull in. What he's after is making himself impossible to fight, simply so he stands alone in heaven and does…what? Cuts off people's arms or pokes their eyes out whenever he feels like it?'

'And in order to get there, he'd trample anything – his superiors and his friends and all sorts of people who loved and trusted him, and most of all, thousands of innocent people who don't know or care that you exist…'

Grimmjow remained indifferent, and glanced to the side.

'That's why I say you don't get me at all,' Ichigo continued, his fingers running casually along Zangetsu's hilt. 'My dad and my sisters, all of my schoolmates are among those innocents. Sure, I wanted to defeat Aizen to get Inoue back, but…in the end, it's all of the other innocents that I came here to protect.'

'Oh, enough with the sentimental bullshit already, Kurosaki,' Grimmjow sighed. 'You're making me all depressed.'

'Cuz you never thought of it that way?' Ichigo said, softly.

'Nah, dude, cuz the more ya yap, the more I can't understand how someone as whiny as you could possibly beat me,' the Arrancar snapped in response. His feral grin returned. 'But you say you got sisters?'

'Grimmjow!' Ichigo exclaimed, feeling an urge to slap his forehead. What was he doing talking to this guy, anyway? The human thought, rolling his eyes. 'They're ten and twelve, you sick bastard…'

'If they don't look none like you, I got time,' the Sexta answered, smiling wide.

'You're a dickhead,' the substitute Shinigami answered, then leaned his head on the wall behind him and closed his eyes, giving up on the conversation. He remained silent for a few moments, fully expecting the Arrancar to stand and walk away; Grimmjow didn't.

He continued to sit opposite Ichigo, until the silence between them actually grew…_comfortable?_ Ichigo thought, shaking his head to get rid of the confusion. But the word was, indeed, _comfortable_ – not because he had grown to like the Arrancar; there was little to like in a thing that could muster so much pure hatred and seemed to only exist to crush those weaker than himself into the ground, without mercy or second thoughts, as he had done with Yammy. But because, beneath all of Grimmjow's too boisterous self assurance, and self professed indifference to everything, Ichigo understood that the Arrancar was pondering the exact same thing he was, and, similarly, arriving at no conclusion.

'What do you do…' Ichigo began, slowly, still not looking at the Sexta, but waiting for him to finish the phrase.

'…when fighting's not enough?' Grimmjow completed, in a foreign, mild voice. 'When nothing is a simple as it oughta be?'

Their glances met; Ichigo bit his lip and drew a deep breath before he nodded.

'None of this was supposed to go like it went,' the human sighed. 'I was supposed to beat you, then Ulquiorra, then Aizen, get Inoue and go home to my dad and my sisters. Instead, I am sitting here talking to you after you twisted my arm into declaring I trust you, _the guy_ ate Ulquiorra, and Aizen's gone…Sure, I got Inoue, but to even get to Aizen, not to mention my family, I'm currently depending on another guy, whose first and best intention was dissecting Renji.'

'I fucking hate complications,' Ichigo muttered, in rebellion.

Grimmjow shrugged in defeat, finding nothing to say; he'd already made the admission, and saw no reason to restate it.

'Are you double-timing us, Grimmjow?'

The question, which had seemingly risen from nowhere, made the Arrancar shift his glance.

'Normally I wouldn't be thinking of that,' Ichigo continued, bitterly pressing his lips together. 'But after that show, back there, I feel you're cooking something, and I gotta know…'

'I bet normally ya wouldn't be thinking at all,' the Sexta joked, without malice.

'Yeah,' Ichigo admitted.

'Ya get me a lot better than you think, then, Kurosaki.' Grimmjow answered. 'That's why I don't wanna stop fighting. Cuz when you stop fighting you gotta think, and make choices and pick sides and _shit_.' His eyes narrowed. 'I've died and gone to hell, so I think I fucking earned the right not to do any of that an' just focus on ripping things apart.'

'This is not hell, Grimm,' Ichigo said, shaking his head, and unconsciously using the name that he'd heard Lilinette using when addressing the Sexta; he did not fully know why. It had just felt as if the Arrancar's voice had been laden with genuine emotion – genuine pain – something so familiar and human that Ichigo'd felt touched. 'This is, sort of, in between.'

'What do you know, Kurosaki?' Grimmjow snarled. 'It's a fucking desert with no way out, an' you an' your Shinigami pals send souls here when they have no bloody clue how to deal with'em. What does it matter that it's not _the _hell? It's a type of hell and that's all that matters. Ya bloody been here three days. What the fuck do you know?'

Ichigo sustained the Arrancar's enraged leer for a few seconds, then looked to the side, admitting defeat.

'You're right,' he said. 'I don't really know. I'm sorry. I hope you're not double timing us, Grimmjow,' he added, in a single breath, as if he'd been afraid that if he had stopped speaking, the phrase would not have come out at all. 'I hope this isn't some sort of trick of Aizen's to keep us busy until he defeats the guys over in the human world. I have you here in front of my eyes, and I can't think you're doing that, because you don't seem like the type, you know, but…'

He looked across the corridor, waiting for the Sexta to say something, anything, that would stop him from continuing.

'…but I've seen you, man, I've seen you,' Ichigo continued, shaking his head. 'you're not too subtle when you hate something or someone; I mean how you went after Yammy was bloody disturbing and heartless. So, yeah, I thought I had you coined for hating the Octava Espada just about as much as you can hate anyone without crushing their head. I wouldn't have bet a bottle of milk on that guy being honest in the first place; now he's supposedly on our side, but he's still looking for ways to beat us, as if he was planning to turn on us the moment we look the other way.'

The human pursed his lips.

'And all of a sudden, when he gets caught, you're down with that and you come within a hair of Byakuya's nasty side to stand up for him, Grimm.'

'Don't call me that, Shinigami,' the Arrancar protested, in a low growl. 'There were only seven people who had the right to call me that; five of them are dead, and you ain't either of the other two.'

'People who are your friends,' Ichigo said blankly.

'People I like an' trust,' the Sexta responded.

'Lilinette's one of the two that are left,' the human continued. 'Is Stark the other?' he asked, leaning forward, and intently staring into Grimmjow's eyes. The look of sheer concentration on his features made the Sexta burst into roaring laughter.

'Well if that ain't the dumbest question parading for a smart question that I've ever heard!' the Arrancar managed, between wild chuckles. 'What is it you think you're gonna get me to tell ya, Kurosaki? That I'm workin' hand in hand with Stark, an' keeping an eye on ya till Aizen's ready to take ya on? Or that I'm workin' with Szayel Aporro…'

'Or that all three of you are still working together and leading us on, to whatever trap that bastard Aizen designed at the end of this maze,' Ichigo exploded. 'And you'd better stop jerking me around, Grimmjow; I wanna trust you, man, cuz if I thought…'

He stopped, as if reconsidering whether he truly wanted to finish the sentence, then sighed in surrender and continued.

'…cuz if I allowed myself to think that a guy I know so well – sure, a guy who hurt me, and a guy I hurt in return, but, a guy I've been through a lot with - would let me vouch for him, while working round my back, not only lying to me, but making me lie to my friends…If I allowed myself to think that about you, I could think it about anyone, and I really don't wanna…'

'If you put your trust in humanity on the same step as your trust in me, you're retarded, Kurosaki,' Grimmjow said, dryly.

'It's not really my trust in humanity,' Ichigo refuted. 'It's more like, my trust in my gut instinct, ya know? My gut's telling me to trust you – if my gut is wrong now, then…'

'Then you'll never trust your gut again,' the Arrancar grinned. 'And since you're not a refined intellectual, your gut's all you have.'

'I'm sixteen, man, cut me some slack,' the human finally chuckled, and, for a moment, they both fell silent.

'What do ya want me to say, huh?' the Sexta shrugged, finally relenting. 'I don't like it an' you don't like it, but it is fucking complicated.'

'Tell me you're not trying to pull tricks,' Ichigo muttered. 'That'd make it a whole lot simpler.'

'If Szayel Aporro was here, he'd tell ya you have one eyebrow and the brain of a bug,' Grimmjow said; he wasn't smiling, but his attentive gaze had gathered an odd, tense and attentive flavor. 'Let me try to make it simple for ya, then, tho' it won't be as simple as you'd like.'

Ichigo nodded.

'Double timin' has different meaning to different folks, Kurosaki. It's just like if you saw it through Ulquiorra's eye. Stark didn't trust ya and your gang; Szayel Aporro stood with him on that one, an' I gotta say both of 'em think very far ahead, and usually, they think well. I don't really think ahead, but I see far ahead. Or well,' he grinned, 'my gut's usually right. I just don't act on what it tells me, cuz I don't give a shit. Nellie girl, on the other hand, really trusts ya. She chooses to - not because she ain't thinkin' but because she's thinkin' only the best. She's wired like that. Just like you, dude.'

'I understand that,' Ichigo nodded.

'You think this is not hell, an' that shows that your Shinigami induction trainin' was lacking,' the Arrancar grinned. 'This is hell; ya and your kind put us here for reasons I, for one, can't remember. Then, just as I was copin' with a perpetual life that absolutely ain't worth livin', another of your kind came and restored my humanity. An' all things human love life, however miserable it may be, dude.'

'You don't strike me as particularly careful with yourself, Grimmjow,' Ichigo muttered.

'I didn't exactly jump on Nnoitra's sword to make an honor point, now did I?' the Arrancar returned, looking at Ichigo though narrowed eyes. The human shrugged. 'I ain't afraid of death, but I ain't suicidal, either. An' if you're thinking I ain't as pissed at Stark as I oughta be, you're right. Lookin back, I can see where he was and why he went the way he went - if was I him I'd fucking _take exception_ to being Kuchiki's pawn.'

'So being Aizen's pawn is better?' Ichigo smirked.

'That's with comings and goings, dude,' Grimmjow answered. 'Stark looks after his own ass, that's fair enough – but he's looking out for Lilinette too, no matter what Szayel Aporro thinks. An' from that perspective, when he saw what road pretty boy was takin', he prolly thought that winning with Aizen would make sure both him an' Lilinette would be safe for a while longer. Kuchiki didn't give him that, so…'

'Quit blaming Byakuya. He stayed!' Ichigo protested. 'He could have gone, but he stayed!'

'Yeh, dude, but it was too little, too late. Stark's not the type to wait for the second go. Also, from another angle,' Grimmjow continued, 'Lilinette has more friends on this side than she does on the other – an' whatever friends she has there have no power.'

'So making her fight her powerful friends is a good idea?' the human asked. 'Where's the logic in that?'

'Kurosaki, you idiot,' Grimmjow sighed. 'If Stark and Lilinette stood with us, the people on the other side would not think twice before killing her if he wasn't lookin'. While like this, Stark knows that the first person on _our_ side that even gives Lilinette a fucking sideways glance will get their head ripped off. By me,' the Sexta promised, in a low, chesty growl. 'An' you'd better tell that to your gang.'

Ichigo nodded softly; he intended to do nothing less.

'You really like her,' he said, and Grimmjow shrugged, as if admitting defeat.

'She's something else,' the Sexta responded simply. 'She's a brave little cunt, talks up a storm, kicks like a bloody sledgehammer. Mind quick as lightening too. Nothing there not to like. 'xcept for the lack of boobs, but they'll grow,' he smiled, making Ichigo shake his head in dismay.

The Sexta shrugged.

'And so you see, I understand an' even like the enemy. Isn't that double timing?' he asked, tilting his head to the side.

'Not really,' Ichigo said.

'Would Kuchiki give me the same answer?' the Arrancar asked; his grin let Ichigo know that no response he could produce would be believable to Grimmjow. In truth, the human thought, looking at his sandals, he did not know that if he offered an affirmative answer, he'd fully believe it himself.

'I…' Ichigo began, softly.

'No need for the half-ass pep-talk, fuckface, I already made my choices.' The Sexta carelessly tossed. '_I _fought ya. I know ya. I know you ain't trying to use me, but I also know that you can't speak for the rest of them. Because you're not fully on the up and up with them either, Kurosaki. And, as we've just seen, you're afraid to be on the up and up, which makes me think Stark was right.'

'With what was _the guy_ right with this time?' Ichigo sneered.

'With that given the voices in your head, you oughta be thinking real hard before you pull your mask on in front of them real Shinigami.'

'Grimmjow…'

'Don't answer me, dude.' The Arrancar interrupted. 'Think about it. Just think before ya do it, 'cuz it's a fucking life changing decision.'

There was silence. And this time, the word _comfortable_ came naturally to Ichigo's mind.

'I will,' he said. Grimmjow nodded.

'Now, sadly, since Stark made his choices like he made 'em, I'm left with Szayel Aporro.' the Sexta continued, 'Szayel Aporro I don't like. Cuz he's an arse bandit.'

'Grimmjow, can you be any _more_ of a dickhead?' the human cringed.

'He's an arse bandit,' the Sexta reiterated, 'but he knows his shit, and his mind is like a bloody machine. Under all that meowing and purring, there's sprockets that spin and clink. He had much less of a choice than Stark in the whole matter, cuz all the things he cares for are in your grasp – he wouldn't leave them behind, even if doesn't trust you at all.' Grimmjow said, looking around. 'He'd rather die three deaths.'

'That's just the thing though, Grimm…jow,' Ichigo answered. 'If he only stuck to our side because he had no choice, it's not hard to imagine that when he does have a choice…'

'He won't have a choice,' the Sexta said dryly.

'How can you know?' the human insisted.

'I know, dude, an' that's enough.' Grimmjow snarled, to warn Ichigo away from the line of questions. 'Szayel Aporro won't turn to Aizen. But if you're picking up weird vibes, it's because the fact that he won't turn to Aizen don't mean he won't turn against you.' The Sexta added, with a smile.

'There's one hell of a reassurance,' Ichigo muttered, leaning back on the wall.

'Told ya it's fucking complicated,' the Arrancar shrugged. 'And the complication is the fact that we're not on the same side, Kurosaki. There's three camps here – there's Aizen, there's your people, and then there's _us_. Me, Szayel, Tesla and Neliel Tu. When everything's done, maybe Kuchiki will remember we are, in the end, nothing but Hollows. We've already established you can't tell me him, or anyone else above him won't, so don't look at me with stupid puppy eyes. Szayel Aporro, who thinks far ahead, is acting on that knowledge; he's not a fighter, and he doesn't challenge directly unless you leave him with no choice. He'd rather lay low, preferably with his ass up, and scrounge for bits and pieces of information till he's lost all chances of charming, fucking, or negotiating his way out of shit. He ain't preparing to turn on ya, dude, he's preparing to defend when you'll turn on us.'

He paused, letting the words sink in.

'So, yeah, if you wanna know, I'm down with _that.' _Grimmjow added, softly.'I don't like his approach; he's a cowardly little bug. But…at least, he's got an approach. All of us, I tell ya, even Nellie girl see your turn coming; she's too wrapped in thinking all stories have a fucking happy ending, and I don't give a shit yet. I'll start giving a shit when the possibility gets closer, but by then it'll probably be too late. And while Nellie's being Nellie an' I'm being too lazy to think stuff though, Szayel Aporro's swallowing a bunch of shit, flirting with who he has to, taking chances, thinking in overdrive and trying to sort himself, but also us, out. I gotta respect that, dude. There's no way I won't.'

He leaned back in his turn, glancing at Ichigo with an unreadable expression.

'You tell me if that's double timin' or not, Kurosaki. And answer your own question. What would you do if you were us?'

'I'd bloody go ask if the people I mistrust so much are double timing us or not,' Ichigo mumbled, in protest.

'Yeh, well, you asked me, an' you're none the smarter for it.'

'You told me the truth,' Ichigo answered softly. 'It isn't much, but it's a beginning.'

'It's a beginning that's going nowhere, fast,' Grimmjow sneered.

Ichigo smirked, but found no retort. He looked at Zangetsu, twisting the sword between his fingers and watching the wide blade spin.

'This guy, Illfordt.' He said, all of a sudden.

'Yeh?' Grimmjow snarled.

'Who was he to Szayel Aporro? He mentioned the name like it was supposed to mean something.'

Grimmjow hesitated, and answered only after a few long seconds of silence.

'Illfordt Granz was Szayel Aporro Granz's older brother,' the Sexta said, dryly, and though his voice signaled that he would have had that particular line of the conversation stopped, as well, Ichigo did not back down.

'And who was he to you?' the human inquired.

Grimmjow hissed, baring his canines.

'None of your fucking business,' he said.

Ichigo was not impressed.

'He was one of your five,' the substitute Shinigami said. His glance had not left Zangetsu for a single second. 'He was one of the five that you took to the real world, and who got themselves killed. You didn't eat them.'

Grimmjow's chin jerked upwards.

'Your Adjuchas,' Ichigo followed. 'The ones that you set out to become Vasto Lorde with. The ones that said you were their king. He was one of them, and you didn't eat them, like you told me you did. Cuz if you had, they would not have been Arrancar…yeah, don't look at me like I don't know what I'm saying . _You _said – seven people I like and trust, and five of them are dead. And the five that are dead are the five Arrancar that got killed; the five Adjuchas who you liked and trusted. The five Adjuchas you lied to me about, Grimmjow. You told me you ate them, but you never did. Cuz they meant more to you than being king over everything else.'

'So, yeah, dude, I didn't. So, yeah, I liked'em, and if you wanna know, Kurosaki, I miss'em, cuz they were there and they were honest and strong and they had balls of iron. So I didn't eat them. So what?' the Sexta spat. 'You think you got me where I'm weak, now?'

Ichigo finally looked up.

'No, Grimmjow,' he said softly. 'I think I finally got you where you're strong.'

The human shook his head.

'I trust you,' he admitted. 'I do, and I know exactly why I do. Can't promise you I can explain it to no one. Can't promise you I can stand up for you. Can't promise you anything. I just trust you, man, for whatever it's worth.'

'It doesn't make things less complicated,' the Arrancar smirked. 'I'm with my own kind, Kurosaki, you're with yours. We can't trust ya cuz you won't trust us; you ain't got no reason to trust us, cuz we're always on the defend. Round and round it goes. I'd sooner be punching your lights out.'

'I fucking hate complications,' Ichigo sighed.

Grimmjow saw no reason to disagree.

* * *

Up next - SzayIshi! or NelHime! or both :) The one thing that I like about the wait is that I can engage in character studies without fear of retaliation :)


	57. The Real Set

Hello all - and thank you for he week that just passed :) Tis a great thing to know you're following and hopefully enjoying my ramblings :) And thank you Maidros, for being even more present than usual :) I don't know what I would do without you, pet!

Also, I feel like flexing my muscles a bit - an intellectual masturbation moment,eeeh - did I guess Apache's weapons, or did I guess Apacahe's weapons? Well, at a 75% but still! I was very happy today, reading the new chapter. On a sadder note, a co-worker looked at my work PC desktop background and went - Whoa, you like Bleach!!! That's so cool!...wait a minute...is that SZAYEL APORRO? You like THAT guy? To which my super cool boss, who was sitting beside me, perked and asked - Ha, that's a guy? always thought it was a lass...and what is wrong with the guy?

....and my face went all shades of pink-red-crimson as the true devilish nature of Szay was exposed to my - first giggling, but then seriously concerned - superior :)) Methinks I need to put my 'Share Your Aggresion' background, featuring Grimm, back on :)

Chapter 56 - Where Szayel Aporro is topless (to show he's a guy...)

* * *

'I am so disappointed in you,' Ishida hissed, leaning in towards the microphones.

'That's a promisingly honest statement.' Szayel said, in a playful tone. 'If I confess to my wicked deeds, could I expect you to administer a mild and pleasurable punishment? Not the pregnant pause,' he added, after a few seconds of heavy silence, which pointedly proved Ishida was not amused. 'Anything but the pregnant pause, please, Quincy…The purpose of the pregnant pause is entirely wasted on me – let's just say I acknowledge that you've just given me time to consider my actions and feel crushed by shame in light of your adorable admission. Nonetheless, you should by now know that I am unlikely to feel ashamed, so…put an earphone on.'

On the other end of the communication line, Ishida huffed in dismay, but nonetheless spun the chair around and took the earphone out of Lumina's extended palm.

The Fraccion had returned but a few moments before, slinking past the walls as if it had hoped it would go unobserved. Unlike its creator, it seemed to be far more sensitive to the reproachful glances of all who stood in the laboratory, and it had ducked under a table when Isane had taken a step in its direction.

'It won't say anything,' Neliel Tu had said, guessing the fact that Isane had intended to ask where the Fraccion had been. From under the table, Lumina had nodded rapidly and sheepishly, and emitted a sharp squeak when Isane had kneeled to take a closer look at it. 'It's built that way,' Neliel had shrugged; the vice-captain of the fourth division had continued to stare at the spherical creature for a minute longer, then sighed and admitted to herself that the Espada was probably right.

It had taken a further few minutes for Lumina to dare to come out, and finally shuffle to Ishida's side, by the panels, hands meekly clenched at the height of its chest. It had looked at the Quincy and softly squeaked again – and although its features were entirely too simple to express emotion, Ishida had thought the creature had been attempting to tell him it was sorry and less frightened of him than of all the rest.

'Not as if you can help it,' Ishida had said. The Fraccion had merely stared at him, its round eyes, matte gold irises surrounded by golden sclera, fixed onto the Quincy's features. It had nodded again.

'You have to go and do something like this just as I was starting to…' Ishida began, as soon as he'd settled the earphone and joined what he assumed was a private channel. A quick and somewhat guilty glance over his shoulder assured that Isane and Rukia were far enough behind him not to hear him.

'Like me? I am blushing.' Szayel laughed, then cursed lightly under his breath. A loud noise – probably the sound of a metal sheet falling onto the stone showed that he'd already begun tinkering with the machinery in Gin's chamber.

'Respect your knowledge,' Ishida dryly returned.

'I would dare hope that should stay constant regardless of any other delightfully eccentric behaviors that I might exhibit,' the Arrancar scolded.

'Getting caught was not intelligent at all,' Ishida muttered.

'It was a necessary risk,' Szayel Aporro said; noises of shards being cleared drowned out his voice. 'I was, of course, counting on vice-captain Abarai's exceedingly thick skull, but,' Szayel chuckled, 'I had forgotten fools can be lucky. In any event, I am not overly displeased - there was nothing left in Las Noches that could possibly make any of them release a Bankai. Wonderweiss proved a fortunate encounter in the end…though I have to admit, I would have preferred Unohana to Kuchiki.'

'Can't they hear you?' Ishida asked, with mild dismay. The fact that Szayel Aporro was speaking to him in such a relaxed manner did not truly surprise him, although, in a remote corner of his brain, he rationalized the fact that he should have found the Arrancar's obvious ease around him disquieting and dangerous.

'No, they've stepped out, probably to discuss the finer details of how they will grotesquely do away with me if I misbehave again, and left vice-captain Abarai to guard me with his fiery glare,' Szayel giggled. 'Besides, I am buried inside a wiring closet – a very dusty one!' he squeaked, in such a high pitched voice that Ishida almost yanked the earphone out, 'so I doubt they would hear me even if they were standing behind me.'

'Why, Szayel Aporro…' Ishida sighed. 'Why would you do such a transparently threatening thing? Could you not _predict_ how they would react?'

'Hm,' the Octava returned, in a distracted voice. 'Why, indeed? Do not speak as if you hadn't been sitting in our circle and enjoying my coffee, pretty Quincy.' He reminded. 'You know what was discussed. Though I may look fickle, as variety is, in the end, the spice of life, my attachments are not that easily changed. It was not my intention to openly threaten them, yet perhaps it is for the best that they realize they cannot hold the upper hand on all things.'

Ishida pursed his lips, but did not respond.

'Is Neliel alright?'

Neither the distracted and indifferent tone of his voice, nor its loudness had changed. It was almost as if the Octava had inquired about the weather. Nonetheless, the Quincy felt a small twinge of sympathy; he scowled, understanding that his feelings were entirely unwarranted, and even dangerous under the present circumstances, but cast a sort glance over his shoulder to Neliel Tu.

'She looks a bit thoughtful,' he almost unwillingly answered. 'She's otherwise fine, though.'

'Good,' Szayel answered. 'I would have hated for Grimmjow to have upset her.'

'I do not understand you,' Ishida said, softly.

'There is no need for Grimmjow to upset her over things that cannot be altered,' the Arrancar distractedly said. 'She hates me, with good reason, and she is doing perfectly in her part of the play. I am in mine.'

A few long moments of silence followed, filled only by occasional clinks of metal and shuffling of silk.

'How's it looking?' Ishida asked.

'Not good,' Szayel replied, the curtness of the response making an icy shiver ascend the Quincy's spine. 'In fact, it is looking so bad, that I am confronting a large philosophical dilemma, the resolution of which may have immediate consequences on my health,' he artificially chuckled.

'Why?' the Quincy inquired.

'Well,' Szayel explained, 'do you want to good news or the bad news first? Normally I would advocate the best dramatic outcome, and give you the good news in the end, but I fear in this case it would be quite anticlimactic.'

'You can't fix it?'

'Well, now, if you're not a spoiler of perfectly good tension build-up,' Szayel said, with a deep, disappointed sigh. 'Of course I can make the necessary repairs.' He answered. 'In two to three days.'

'What?' Ishida exclaimed, forgetting to keep his voice down. Isane and Rukia, who were involved in their own conversation, spun around quickly. Embarrassed, and not willing to draw attention to the fact that he was having a private conversation with the Octava, Ishida waved is hand, as if trying to indicate there was nothing to be concerned about. 'We do not have two to three days, Szayel Aporro,' Ishida whispered, as soon as the two girls had looked away again. 'In two to three days, Aizen may…'

'Your sense of priorities is all wrong,' the Arrancar answered. 'Never mind Aizen - my most immediate concern is captain Kuchiki's reaction when I get out of here and tell him what I just told you.'

'He wouldn't do anything rash,' Ishida sighed in his turn. 'Or at least not yet. Even though you will take a while, you're still the only one who can do it. Though, within two or three days…'

'The issue of the Garganta may solve itself, in one way or the other, and my services will no longer be required.' Szayel concurred.

Ishida leaned back on the chair, and briefly removed his glasses, to rub the arch of his nose.

'Goddamnt it, Szayel Aporro,' he said, softly. 'You're in a right mess.'

But no, Ishida thought, pressing his eyelids together, _we _are in a right mess. Oddly enough, however, the effects that Szayel Aporro's predicament would have on Nemu and himself did not immediately jump to mind; the first thing he'd thought of was that, perhaps, Szayel Aporro deserved better than to be dispensed with once he'd exhausted his usefulness. The Quincy found the notion quite disturbing, but was unable to shake it off on his own. He expected that Szayel would quickly make the feeling recede by making some cold, distasteful remark, but the predictable reminder that Nemu's fate was intertwined with Szayel's own failed to surface.

'I don't know why I had expected…'Ishida began, putting his glasses back on.

'That I would snap my fingers and resolve the issue?' Szayel snickered.

'Yeah,' the Quincy admitted.

'Then our expectations were quite different,' the Arrancar responded. 'I actually hoping for the contrary – and to be thoroughly honest, despite all circumstances, I find the fact that this is so problematic _wonderful_.' he continued. 'I am very excited.'

He certainly did sound like it, Ishida thought. Like a five year old in front of his birthday present.

'I am not ashamed to admit I am even mildly aroused,' Szayel added, in an innocent tone; despite himself, Ishida had to cough to stifle a chuckle of his own.

'Seriously, Szayel Aporro,' he said, lowering his head, and trying to erase the image of the Octava's grin from his mind. 'You're sitting inside a wire rack, looking at torn machinery!'

'A dusty wire rack, too,' Szayel reminded, in good humor. He coughed lightly, and Ishida shook his head. 'Listen, Quincy…I've been looking forward to this moment for almost nine months.' he explained, in an amazingly honest voice. 'I plan to enjoy unraveling all this and learning as much as I possibly can; an opportunity of seeing something so entirely new is so rare, that, with your permission, I will choose to disregard all thoughts of Aizen, Kuchiki and all other inconsequential nuisances. Let us, as principle, state that I am aware that I am in trouble, and that I am refusing to let that spoil my fun.'

Ishida nodded, biting his lower lip. Not all courage takes the same shape, he distractedly thought. Not all strength has the same manifestation.

'So what's the problem?' the Quincy asked, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

'Three problems, actually,' Szayel answered, his voice returning to its seductive purr. 'The first and minor one is that Wonderweiss did a lot of damage, to most of the panels – but these are simple control interfaces, just like mine. We were fortunate that he was an idiot,' he thoughtfully added. 'The damage was randomly dealt, and what I can recognize of my own creations seems to be intact – the cross world travel controller device looks undamaged.'

'Well that's good news,' Ishida said.

'Yes, but that's where our good luck stops,' Szayel replied. 'The closet I am currently exploring seems to serve as central control mechanism and power source for the entire thing. And it has been mercilessly disemboweled. Grotesquely even,' the Arrancar sighed. 'Which leads us to problem number two – I need to restore power to the core processing facility before I can ascertain that I can override Gin's commands and restore our ability of opening Garganta.'

'And then,' Szayel said, 'there is major problem number three.'

'Which is?' Ishida impatiently prompted.

'That quite frankly, I don't know my right from my left, in here,' the Octava admitted. 'I have never seen anything like this.'

'Yes, but wiring is wiring,' Ishida protested. 'Surely you can figure it out.'

'Indeed, indeed,' Szayel rushed to assure. 'But figuring out takes time – thus my two to three days estimate.'

Ishida slinked back on the chair.

'One thing that I can say for certain, though,' the Arrancar continued, 'is that this has not been put together by Gin. It has nothing to do with what we've seen before. This is neat and orderly; none of this circuitry was lifted and dropped here – whomever put this together knew exactly what they were doing, and even took care of aesthetics. Indeed,' Szayel said, softly, a delicate shuffling noise making Ishida imagine that the Arrancar had adoringly run his fingers across some metallic surface, 'somebody loved _this.'_

'That may well be,' Ishida responded, with a shrug. 'But I do not see how that is of any relevance to us now.'

'Hm,' Szayel Aporro said, dryly. 'Are you certain?'

'Are you trying to make me guess something?' The Quincy snapped.

'No, I am trying to see if the only other functioning _independent_ brain of the establishment reaches the same conclusion as I did. Humor me.'

Ishida took a deep breath, trying to still his temper, and reason through, using the knowledge he had.

Firstly, the Quincy thought, Szayel Aporro said exactly what he meant – as an implication, the usage of the word _independent_ was as powerful a hint as any. In addition, the Arrancar had already shown respect to Nemu's reasoning capacities, but he seemed uneager to share this particular problem with…her…

Of course, Ishida suddenly thought. The machine had been put together by somebody who loved it; someone who loved machinery, and that Nemu was not independent of.

_Kurosutchi._

'Gods in Heaven, Szayel Aporro,' the human breathed. 'You're not thinking…'

'I am,' the Arrancar said, dryly. 'And now we arrive at my previously mentioned philosophical dilemma,' he continued, not giving Ishida time to recover. 'If I attempt to learn about how this is wired on my own, I may run out of time. If on the other hand, we are both right, and Kurosutchi is the father…or well, at least the spiritual parent of this beautiful creation, then there is a good chance that your Nemu may well be able to speed things up.'

'But that would imply Kurosutchi was working with Aizen since…'

'That is a powerful statement. It could have been stolen,' Szayel answered, in a doubtful tone.

'If you're standing _inside_ it, it's not like anyone could have put it in their pocket and walked away with it,' Ishida protested. 'Also, you just said that it had not been assembled by the same person who assembled the other control panel…'

'We could argue various methods of modular design that would allow someone with a moderate understanding of electronics to complete the assembly according to instructions. Then, of course, the question would be why this was designed in the first place…It can only have one functionality.'

'Exactly,' the Quincy muttered.

'I am not attempting to contradict you,' the Arrancar scolded softly. 'I would just ask you to consider the consequences of your conclusion – rather, of stating your conclusion. In a cold, logical manner, that has _my_ best interest in mind.'

There was a minute pause.

'I do not think Kuchiki acknowledges Nemu as an entity, whether it's the soul business or the gigai business, it does not matter. He perceives her as an extension of Kurosutchi, and the last thing either of us would need is for Kurosutchi himself to turn out to be closer to Aizen than to the Sereitei. That would devalue him, and give me the hypothetical option of vaporizing him in the future, but by devaluing him we also devalue Nemu, and therefore, my insurance policy. So, let us let sleeping dogs lie on that particular subject, hm?'

'But if he…'Ishida stubbornly continued to press.

'The only thing that would be accomplished would be that you'd render an already despicable individual even more despicable. Vast amounts of short term mental gratification, not a lot of long term benefits; the Sereitei are unlikely to issue you a written apology over the death of your grandfather, little Quincy – regardless of Kurosutchi's hypothetical links to Aizen, they knew about his Quincy research and permitted it. That would render any apology moot, to me. Even if they did apologise, and you put the parchment up on your bedroom wall in a fashionable frame, it would not make their regret genuine or lessen your pain.'

'How do you bloody know about that?' Ishida hissed. 'I've only said it to…'

'Stark, yes, yes,' Szayel Aporro sighed. 'Nonetheless, you said it inside my laboratory; you could as well have whispered it in my ear. Would have preferred the latter,' Szayel chirped. 'Sentimental admissions make me all warm and giddy.'

Ishida smirked, but remained quiet for a moment longer.

'So what is it that you want from me?' he asked, at length. 'You've imparted knowledge that I cannot use, and we've gone nowhere near a conclusion to the trouble you're currently in.'

'_Au contraire_,' the Octava replied. 'Now you possess sufficient background information to be perfectly able to answer my next query.'

'Which is?'

'Which is, if I enlist Nemu's help in solving this beautiful riddle, how likely are Kuchiki and Unohana to conclude what we have just concluded, and that I end up shooting myself in the leg?'

'She's helped on the security system controls as well,' Ishida answered, with a little shrug. 'They did not find that suspicious. Also, Szayel Aporro, we do not see things as _they_ are, we see things as _we_ are.'

'Hm, wonderfully cryptic,' the Arrancar replied.

'I am just trying to tell you…'Ishida began, feeling oddly pleased at the fact that he'd managed to say something the Octava had not instantly grasped – his triumph was short lived.

'That where I am seeing beauty and order, the rest of them are likely to see a dusty, completely wrecked wiring closet and not make the association with Kurosutchi at all.' Szayel Aporro said, kindly. 'Excellent Talmudic reference, however, Ishida, I am very impressed.'

'Is there anything that you don't know?' the archer sighed.

'Not for long,' Szayel Aporro laughed, this time in earnest. 'Very well,' he concluded. 'I shall deal with all other things as they surface,' he whispered, mostly to himself. 'Lumina?' he reiterated, after a small, dull beep announced that he'd rejoined the main communications channel. Next to Ishida, the Fraccion stood to attention.

'Release Nemu-chan and get her a comfortable seat,' Szayel Aporro said. 'I sense that she, I and the Quincy are going to have a thoroughly satisfying mental threesome.'

Not even the Arrancar's choice of words could lessen the explosion of joy and relief in Ishida's heart, or the surprise felt by the others. Renji peered into the wiring closet, with a thoroughly confused frown, then hastily spun around, probably going to fetch his captain.

'Szayel Aporro,' Ishida whispered, not knowing and not really caring whether the others heard him or not. 'If you can re-enable the Garganta, they could snatch Nemu to the human world and do away with you immediately. You're chancing…'

'I am, I am,' the Arrancar giggled. 'But what is life without a little excitement?'

The dull beep repeated, and, by the faint shuffling in the background, Ishida could guess Szayel Aporro had leaned back against some surface, and crossed his arms.

'I really, really want to know everything about this room,' the Arrancar said, yet again sounding like an excited child. 'At the moment, everything else is secondary, and I will not waste a single second of my time worrying about anything else but this. This learning opportunity and the chance of a qualified guide to it will not present itself to me again.'

'Still,' Ishida insisted, in a soft voice.

'Oh, you truly are adorable,' the Octava answered. 'And for that, I believe you deserve a genuine cookie.'

The Quincy's lower jaw tensed.

'I am not truly taking any momentous chances,' the Arrancar said softly. 'Whether Nemu-chan is in the container or not makes no difference; whether they transport her to the human world as soon as the Garganta are re-opened makes no difference either.'

'Neliel Tu said you cannot use Gabriel in the human world,' Ishida stated, his heart beating as if it had meant to tear out of his chest.

He'd spun around to watch Lumina type hastily on the controls that adjoined Nemu's transparent cell. Isane was already within three feet of it, too, looking flustered, but undeniably happy; she'd met the archer's gaze and smiled, with the same relief and joy that Ishida himself felt.

'Neliel Tu is partially correct,' Szayel amusedly said. 'The lack of completeness is excusable however, since she does not have full knowledge of my abilities. It is not that I cannot use Gabriel in the human world, pretty Quincy – it's that I do not think I can, which is why I never tried to and stayed within the boundaries of Hueco Mundo, where I've had ample opportunity of testing it. However, Nemu is not running any more danger now than she would be there – or, at least not until very late in the drama. She is, and, up to now, always was perfectly safe.'

'What?' Ishida breathed.

'Indeed,' Szayel purred. 'My behavior so far may have led you to believe I think can use Gabriel while Fornicares is not released. No definitive proof to the effect has ever been observed. My humblest apologies.'

The archer darted to his feet as if the sudden rage he felt had given him wings; momentous frustration pushed words from his heart to his lips – how dared this creature toy with him so, how dared he use emotion to coldly cause so much harm and tension, how dared he pretend, for so long, when…

His first temptation was switching to the main communication channels and simply shouting out what he had heard, remove the threat, remove the creature's safety net and assurance. Then, Szayel Aporro would be Kuchiki's to judge, now, or later, whenever the Shinigami decided to end this sick game of false checks and balances.

And the accursed thing had even dared pretend to be generous…

Biting his lower lip, Ishida turned again, watching the glass container lift and melt into the ceiling, with a soft hydraulic hiss. Isane jumped forward, joyously embracing Nemu, who remained perfectly stiff despite her friend's sentimental effusion. Tentatively, Nemu's arms had crossed over Isane's shoulders – not an embrace, but the mechanical imitation of one, an action that she understood must be performed. Yet, despite the dark-haired girl's clumsy gesture and somewhat blank features, her eyes seemed far more alive than usual. Not with joy, necessarily, but with confusion, and deep, amazed gratitude at Isane's warmth.

_Because he never taught you could be precious to anyone_, _it surprises you that you are,_ Ishida thought, feeling his heart cringe.

Nemu looked up, and met the Quincy's gaze. After a second of hesitation – _processing time - _she smiled, timidly, no more than an upwards crook of the lips.

Perhaps not pretended to be generous, Ishida admitted. Perhaps that, at least had been real – not the generosity, but its result. Nemu was momentarily free of Mayuri, and Szayel Aporro had given her that; she was now free of her cell as well, and the Arrancar had given that too, although he could probably have counted on her help even while keeping her restrained. And, in the end, Ishida thought, swallowing his rage, throughout it all, Nemu had been under no threat, and she'd never truly been used as a pawn or a hostage – all Szayel needed to do to truly convert her into one would have been to release Fornicares, at any point in time. His released form was human enough to allow free movement – he would probably have been faster, stronger and more threatening, as well, and not made his reliance on his machines so painfully obvious.

But he hadn't. From the beginning to the end, he'd danced on a high wire with absolutely no safety net beneath.

'You've given me a powerful weapon, Szayel Aporro,' Ishida whispered. 'An overly powerful weapon. The harm I could do to you with this knowledge is immense.'

'I know,' the Octava answered, and his voice had trembled a bit, the faint echoes of his heavy breath hissing though the sound transmitter. 'I know.'

'Why would you tell me such a thing, especially now, when I'm the only person aside Grimmjow who is not out for your head? I already…'

The words were hard to speak, so Ishida didn't. The admission of already trusting the Arrancar would have sounded _dumb,_ under the circumstances. Under any circumstances, Ishida thought, with a self disgusted smirk.

'I know that too,' Szayel said, softly. 'Which is why I am entrusting this weapon to you, Ishida-kun. I would like to believe you have no reason to use it irrationally; I could be wrong, of course,' the Octava laughed dryly, 'but…'

'What's life without a little excitement,' Ishida muttered.

'…but oddly enough, I believe that one's commitments are only as strong as the consequences of not honoring them,' Szayel Aporro said. 'I truly think my timing on this particular admission is perfect, and you should, with all due modesty, regard it as a sign of appreciation. I am giving you a means of holding me accountable because I would like our thus far fruitful collaboration to continue to grow…and also, I would rather have you focusing on the solution of the current problem than on the resolution of hypothetical future problems. The dimensions of the consequences I could face should demonstrate my commitment.'

'Yes, Szayel Aporro,' the Quincy mumbled. 'I'd appreciate your commitment much more if I actually understood what you're committed to…'

'Szayel Aporro Granz is committed to understanding how reishi flows may be used to enhance semiconductor integrated circuits.' Nemu answered, dryly, as she sat down by the archer's side, and arranged her hair over the sound receptor in her ear. 'Am I correct, Szayel Aporro Granz?'

'Heee, Nemu-chan.' Szayel laughed. 'Only partially. Survival does fleetingly spring to mind from time to time.'

The dull beep repeated, and Ishida frowned, wondering why the Arrancar had so suddenly left the private channel.

'Especially in captain Kuchiki's presence,' Szayel's voice purred, this time, out of the speakers.

'I trust this means your analysis is complete,' Byakuya said, dryly.

'It is, and I am ready to proceed,' the Arrancar answered, in a merry, unconcerned tone. 'Let's set up, shall we, Quincy?'

Ishida nodded, casting an uncertain glance to the side at Nemu. She was not paying him or anyone else any attention, her blank gaze set on the screen before her.

As if rewarding her attention, the screen flickered to reveal a surprisingly clear image of Szayel Aporro, and Byakuya, who stood closely behind him.

'Receiving,' Ishida said. 'For the love of god, Szayel Aporro!' he protested, as the camera shifted slightly downwards. 'Put a shirt on!'

'Yes, well,' Szayel snapped, 'I am very little likely to keep a torn garment on. Punk fashion passed me by. I also find it a lot easier to reach all of my instruments if I splay them on the floor rather than go into a self-erotic chest patting routine every time I need a 14 crosshead screwdriver. If you find the thought distracting, little Quincy, dispatch Lumina with a new uniform top…'

'Ahem,' Byakuya meaningfully coughed.

'…after she has removed all accessories,' the Arrancar reluctantly added.

The image rolled rapidly, then, after a dry click, abruptly became fixed at the height of Szayel's eyes, in sign that the Arrancar had probably attached it to the side of his mask. The Octava's gaze lingered on Byakuya for a second more before Szayel spun around, facing into the wiring closet – the sight made Ishida gasp.

None of the walls had been left intact; neat, metallic tubing that had been used to protect the wires had been severed, or simply torn off. Drawers that had sheltered evenly sized circuit boards had been pulled open, and the boards had been yanked from their sockets – signaling panels and LED indicators, all deathly dark, lined the walls. A rectangular block, which vaguely reminded Ishida of a power generator, lay shattered in the very back of the room.

'It's a bloody disaster, that's what it is!' the Quincy exclaimed. 'It looks like a bomb went off!'

'Three to six hours,' Nemu said, flatly. 'Depending on the number and quality of the resources you can allocate.'

Ishida looked at her though the corner of his eyes – there had been no hesitation, no moment of doubt. She knew the machine, he thought, feeling a little heart sting.

'I think you'll find that whatever else Szayel Aporro is,' he said, softly, 'he's not resource constrained.'

Behind him, to reinforce the point, Lumina and Verona cracked their fingers, and bounced away, excitedly chattering between themselves.

* * *

Up next - Most likely a chapter of Just Before Dawn. On Understanding, if need be, Byakushi and Unohana have some plans, too.


	58. All things of Balance

And finally we get it on in the manga!

Stark is turning out as good as I had hoped (not to mention, as handsome!), and I am very glad I waited! Nonetheless, I am pleased for the pause, and for what lies below. Thank you all for reading and commenting, and than you Maidros for keeping me on track :)

Yet more acknowledgement for this chapter goes to IVIaedhros, who was kind enough to point me to a few absolutely brilliant Byakuya fictions, and strengthen my grasp of his character. I've borrowed one of Byakuya's quirks from him, and I have borrowed one of his rituals from the absolutely brilliant peppermint_quartz, whose Touched / First Contact and Over All Things are my two shining stars in the Bleach fiction Universe.

And now, for something absolutely, completely different from what has gone before.

Chapter 57 - Where I actually loved Shinigami. (Stark is currently not speaking to me, and I am greatful that I have no painful outer body appendices that Lili could kick)

* * *

Kuchiki Byakuya was hardly a transparent man; most of those who currently knew him, even those who stood closest, such as his sister and his second in command, had never seen him lose his graceful and dignified front. Not even under the most harrowing circumstances. To their credit, however, Renji and Rukia had never fallen under the common illusion that Byakuya's demeanour was anything else but a trained front that had been painstakingly created and that was equally hard to maintain, in spite of the fact that he never offered proof to the contrary. From that perspective, Unohana Retsu was even more fortunate than the two of them. For she, unlike the many, actually remembered the time before Byakuya's trained mask had been devised, and before he'd started wearing it.

'You're confused,' she said, softly.

She'd followed the captain of the sixth division out onto the corridor. Neither of them had needed to leave instructions for Renji – zanpakutoh still unsheathed, the red-haired Shinigami was following the Octava Espada around the control chamber, staying no more than six feet behind him and scowling menacingly.

Byakuya looked to her, his mask still implacably in place – the woman laughed.

'Or well, you are not _confused_,' she retracted, understanding that the word might have injured his pride. 'You're doubting yourself.'

'I fear I may have heeded your advice on risk-taking at an inopportune moment,' he finally answered, mild amusement in his oddly uncertain and tired-sounding voice.

'Chances should always be taken at an inopportune moment,' Unohana replied, with a wink. 'Otherwise, they cannot be called chances.'

'I admire your detachment,' he said, arching an eyebrow, and leaning against the wall behind him, arms crossed over his chest. 'We sought to be honourable, and we pursued that path in spite of the fact that the Arrancar were not. We had direct confirmation of the Segunda Espada's treachery, and we still remained honourable...'

'Your father would be proud,' Unohana said, simply. She regretted the words as soon as they were spoken.

'I'm not my father,' Byakuya said, fire suddenly roaring in his eyes.

Unohana nodded softly, conceding to the statement; just like she was aware that Byakuya's unflappable demeanour was a mask, she knew all too well that the elder Kuchiki's irreproachable behaviour had never required one. He was the one who had simply had no emotions to hide.

'She would be prouder still,' Unohana said. Byakuya did not smile, but the peace offering was acknowledged with a nod.

Unohana had not intended to strike sensitive chords; she's merely wished to pay him a compliment that would reassure him. Yet, her remark had sparked painful thoughts, and she'd wisely allowed Byakuya a few moments of silence.

The Kuchiki clan had always been dignified; correct; honourable beyond reproach and perfect beyond the imaginable – over the course of the centuries, their rare offspring had been raised in that tradition, nothing but different vessels of a single frozen soul. Nothing beyond simple and safe repetition of what had been had ever been demanded of Byakuya, and, perhaps, but for a single encounter in a blessed cherry garden, he would never have realized he was capable of more.

His grandfather's involvement with the world outside the gates of the Kuchiki manor had been regarded as an eccentricity – but since the man had only accepted the position in his old age, when he no longer bore any of the responsibilities of the family, it had not caused major disturbances. Nonetheless, it had been though his grandfather's eyes that Byakuya had first taken notice of the _vulgar _elements of the world, as his father called the Gotei divisions, and, in the absence of any other company but a score of extremely competent teachers and an army of adoring servants, his grandfather's tales of the Gotei and Yoruichi's rare visits might have been the only contacts with the Sereitei that Byakuya's father had allowed.

He'd not been a quiet or appropriately obedient child; within the Kuchiki walls, his vast amount of energy and sometimes excessive desire for physical exertions that were not combat training – such as running, climbing trees, or even swimming – had been regarded as a hopeless genetic flaw passed on by his mother, who had been of the _weaker_ blood. Perhaps the frailty of the woman's body, who had, in the end, died after giving birth to just one heir – had somehow been transmitted to the boy's the circumstances, it had become clear to all that the child could not be left to his own devices. All the hours of the day had gained a mandatory meaning and purpose, and every minute had been neatly allocated to a useful or graceful pursuit.

The remnants of an education schedule that might have been crushing to even an adult were still visible to the day – even now, almost a century later, Byakuya could not bear to not fill his hours with some sort of activity, whether it was writing or playing a musical instrument. Never with any idle pursuit, never with the company of others. Just as he had been taught.

Until the day when, following a master plan that only the Gods themselves could have designed, he had done the one think Unohana truly envied him for, the one thing she had never fully experienced in her long years. He had encountered love.

Hisana had changed him – _them_ – and it was perhaps the fact that the shy young woman was not a temporary explosion, but the determined herald of long lasting and unpredictable transformation to the very soul of the clan, that Kuchiki the elder had so passionately hated. Aside for her humble origin, there was nothing about Hisana that one might have considered striking. She was not overly beautiful – or at least, had nothing of a seductress; she was not outspoken, and her kindness and gentle demeanour were so natural and graceful that no one could ever have mistaken them for pretence. She had struggled, not against the family rules as Kuchiki the elder had hoped in his quest of proving the young woman was a toxic element, but simply to follow them, and had not demanded any undeserved attention. Her reward for not hearing the malicious whispers, for the icy silence with which the other members of the family surrounded her, for the solitude in which she had been thrust, were a few minutes of idleness in her husband's day. And for those, she had always been immensely and humbly grateful.

In one of his very rare moments of openness, Byakuya had expressed regret over the fact that his noble sire had wasted his only experience of passion on loathing so intense that it had consumed both him and its target. There had never been vulgar arguments in the Kuchiki mansion, yet the old man's hate had hung in the air until Hisana's death, stifling her utterly, permeating all things and imbuing all things with poison.

He had died a week after her, as if her death had completed his life.

Byakuya had navigated both events without shedding a single tear; after Hisana's burial, he'd simply gone to the cherry orchard and swept the fallen petals from the paths they used to walk, then sat under the tree where they used to sit, a ritual he had never failed to complete on the exact same day of the year, for the past half century.

And then, with quiet dignity befitting grand gestures, he'd done the very thing his father had spent his last years fearing and trying to prevent – he'd let the world in. He had never cried on anyone's shoulder, of course, but he had not shut himself off either, accepting the help of those who offered it. He'd pretended to believe Ukitake's insincere requests of learning calligraphy and accepted his regular visits, taking comfort in the others' presence; there were many one could speak to, Byakuya used to say, but very few with which one can stay comfortably silent.

Hisana had not blown the doors of his soul wide open, she'd merely set them slightly ajar – in his days before the betrayal, Ichimaru Gin, who'd been a close friend of the young couple, had ventured the supposition that she had tried and failed, and that Byakuya was simply too entrenched in his ways for anything, even true love, to be able to deeply transform him. Unohana did not believe the statement. There was no wisdom in moving a mountain if all that was required to transform the Universe was moving a grain of sand – nor was full destruction necessary for rebirth.

After Ukitake, the door that Hisana had left ajar had welcomed many, and Unohana herself never failed to feel fortunate for having been among them. It had then opened for Rukia and Renji, who were the first to inherently know they were loved. With each of those who made their way in the opening had grown wider, and, to his credit, Byakuya had re-learned to be human, without forgetting he was royalty, not rejecting his mask and heritage, but striving to make it match the true features of his soul.

There were, of course, a myriad reasons why Byakuya never failed to act according to his rank; he was, after all, the heir of a noble house that was fourth in importance after the royal family, and the sole ruler of a ten thousand souls household – he'd never rejected the tremendous responsibility and all the accompanying rituals, finding his strength in tradition and discipline that he followed. Not with mechanical obedience, but in full understanding and wise acceptance.

But it was not only that.

Sometimes, Unohana thought, Byakuya wore his mask because hiding behind it and observing the world while pretending to stay untouched by it was _fun_.

Fun, in a wicked, childish way that reminded the captain of the fourth division that the seemingly frozen heir of the Kuchiki family had once been thought of as a rowdy teenager.

Over the course of the past few years, Abarai Renji had suffered though a lot of things that went against his simple upbringing and temperament, all brought upon him by his captain's implacable orders – he'd sat though music and calligraphy lessons, tea ceremonies, and various aristocratic visits that bored him half to death. He had endured everything, nonetheless, partly from a desire to please his captain, but partly from the desire of growing to prove himself worthy of marriage to Rukia, someday. Byakuya would have never acknowledged it, but he'd been hoping for the same – yet, even if the two would never be married, he'd still thought that Renji required balance and something to focus on outside of his battle training, and sought to offer him a variety of things to choose from. Not things that would enhance his powers, but things that would ultimately enhance his soul.

There was little to no hope that Renji would ultimately grow to enjoy calligraphy, that went without saying. Still, in Byakuya's stern opinion, the more things his vice-captain was exposed to, the greater the likelihood that he would eventually discover something that he enjoyed, and, in his awkward, cold manner, he'd shared with Renji as many of the activities that brought _him_ pleasure as he could. And though all things were intended with kindness and future growth in mind...

One would have wondered what Abarai Renji would have thought of his imposed calligraphy lessons, had he known Byakuya warmly described the various transparent ways in which his vice-captain tried to hide his discomfort over tea with Ukitake, and that though Byakuya's voice was always on level, Ukitake laughed himself to the verge of painful coughing fits. Or, even worse, what Abarai would have thought of the rare occasions on which Byakuya described the same, when Shunsui decided to join Ukitake, and tea was replaced by sake.

Equally, Renji would have found it hard to believe that his captain delivered stern orders for the mansion kitchens to produce elaborated sweets, just incidentally before one of Yachiru's surprise visits, and that he had kept the confiscated pictures of himself playing the shamisen that Isane Kotetsu and Nemu Kurosutchi had taken on their ill-fated quest for funding, somewhat guiltily admitting to Unohana that he thought they made him look good.

Not even Rukia would have guessed that Byakuya was secretly fond of overly spicy food, the kind that made one's eyes water from a distance, and that on particular afternoons, her brother well and truly preferred coffee to tea; that he spent his Sundays playing Go against Nanao Ise, and that he inwardly knew she sometimes let him win; that he always coordinated Renji's free time with Ukitake, insuring that it would correspond with Rukia's; that he'd known about the two since their first kiss, and that he'd secretly been happy; that, in the end, Hisana had returned Kuchiki Byakuya to life...and sometimes, life implied doubt, self doubt...Open questions to which one could not offer a ready, already learned and ritualistically rehearsed answer. That Byakuya still actively struggled to accept those.

The answer to the question of the Arrancar should have been simple to all, and especially to Byakuya, who had been raised to the same school of thought as Yamamoto Genryusai. The Arrancar were unnatural; unnatural things upset the balance, therefore they had to be eliminated. The guideline was clear, and easy enough to follow.

Though his initial reaction to the surprising turn of the Arrancar had been caused by feelings much different than Unohana's open curiosity, the captain of the fourth has well understood why he had not rushed to simply accomplish his mission and get them out of the way quickly. In the beginning, Byakuya had simply reasoned that using Aizen's own powerful weapons against him would greatly help the Sereitei war effort; because of his thoroughly honourable nature, he had not even thought of hiding his true intent, or making any false promises of safety.

Equally, his inflexible manner of speech, prompted not by lack of empathy, but rather by long years of education that had discouraged expression of emotion, prompted most to either fear him or loathe him on first glance – on this one occasion, both traits had clearly worked against the group's best interest, and he understood it all too well.

Byakuya did not find it easy to tolerate mistakes, least of all his own.

'You may need to tell vice-captain Abarai that you were not actually considering sacrificing vice-captain Kurosutchi,' Unohana said, not knowing how else to reignite the conversation.

He looked to her, features still stern, but with a mischievous glimmer in the depths of his eyes.

'I think he believed me,' the man responded, briefly.

'Oh, I think he did,' Unohana laughed.

'Good,' the captain of the sixth nodded. 'If he did, then the Octava Espada believed it as well, which was my initial intention.'

He breathed in, quietly.

'Even you see the necessity of intimidating this particular Arrancar.' He said, and although his words had sounded like a statement, she could clearly hear the question that lied underneath.

'Yes, I do,' Unohana answered. 'It's not my preferred course of action, but he is a very _complex_ individual, and his motives are not at all transparent to me. All of the others have good reason to turn against Aizen – the Sexta Espada seems to resent authority in an extreme manner, and Neliel Tu is, if you forgive my assertion, an innocent.'

Byakuya looked up, his glance expressing the disagreement he would not openly voice.

'Szayel Aporro on the other hand seems to have no outright motive for turning against his former master, and, honestly, if I regard things like you do,' she continued, 'he is the one who should have turned first. Aside for his knowledge, he seems to have little strength to speak of; he should be hard pressed in battle...'

'That is perhaps why he has not turned,' Byakuya answered. 'If his machinery is his strength, the moment we entered his tower, we already were in a position to utterly destroy him, and it is unlikely that Aizen would tolerate a useless individual by his side.'

Unohana nodded briefly.

'Was my decision wrong?'

She frowned at the phrase, and though she had expected it, she remained quiet, allowing him time to fully formulate the thought.

'Was my decision of staying wrong?' he repeated, with a faint trace of impatience.

'From what perspective?' she shrugged, meeting his reproachful glare with an apologetic smile.

'You know, _senpai_, once in a while when I ask you a question, I do so because I want to hear the answer,' Byakuya said.

'And sometimes when I don't answer a question, it's because I don't know the answer,' Unohana replied, smiling kindly until the trace of anger in his stare faded. 'Listen, Byakuya,' she began, coming to stand before him. 'you did make the correct choice, and by the same token, you did not. From a strictly lawful perspective, if by any chance they are indeed leading us on, thus, if we fail and survive our failure, we both know very well that Chamber 46 will regard your decision as negligence, at best, and treason at worst.'

'Should it come to that, however,' the woman continued, 'you will not face them alone; I agreed with your decision, and so did Kenpachi. From the perspective of following custom and rules, you proceeded correctly.' She added, not letting him dwell too much on her previous words. 'It is disgraceful to tear apart an enemy's throat simply because you can see their jugular.'

'The concept of honour...' Byakuya said, somewhat rebelliously, only to be kindly but decisively cut off.

'The concept of honour is an inner conviction,' she said, raising an eyebrow. 'Just like the concept of mercy; just like compassion. An honourable person should behave with honour regardless of all circumstances – once you start discriminating, and picking who deserves your honourable behaviour, you are no longer a man of honour, but a mimic thereof.'

'It is just as your calligraphy,' she said, with a little grin. 'You do it, and you always adopt the correct position and stance, though your knees begin to hurt in less than half an hour, and I still believe that the one thing that stands between you and completely fused lumbar vertebrae is a divine miracle.'

He arched an eyebrow, as if questioning the relevance of the example.

'The correct stance is meant to be difficult,' Byakuya said, in the way of a protest.

'Exactly,' she responded, with a wide smile. 'It's the same with honour – if you were only honourable towards those you completely trusted, it would be immensely easier, and in my personal opinion, deprived of meaning.'

'The correct stance is meant to be difficult,' he repeated, and this time, the statement had sounded like an answer to his own query.

'Yes. You have made no mistakes.' Unohana said. 'And, just like with compassion,' she continued, her voice gathering an odd, cold edge, 'you can do no more than extend your trust and ask for an honourable response. I never discriminate whom I apply my healing skills to; at the end of a battle, all survivors must be cared for with the same diligence. Of course, when I heal an enemy, I always wonder if they will turn against us again within the hour. But that is their choice, not mine; should they choose to not reciprocate, I would not hesitate to undo my own good work and draw against them. I choose to extend my compassion – what they do with it, whether they accept it or not, is entirely their choice.'

'The difference in this situation is that we are making choices on an individual basis which may reflect disastrously upon others,' Byakuya flatly replied. 'If these two are weaving deceit, our honourable or compassionate behaviour is aiding Aizen against the Captain-Commander.'

'I think,' Unohana said, softly, 'that we should only take responsibility for events in as far as we can understand them.'

'I yet again admire your detachment,' he answered, the phrase sounding like a definite reproach.

Unohana frowned.

'Think about what we are trying to achieve,' she said. 'What would be expected of us, under the circumstances?'

'That we retrieve the Hougyaku and re-join the main strike force,' he replied.

'Is there anything we are doing that is contrary to that?'

'No,' the man admitted.

'Do you think either of those goals would have been achievable without the aid of the Arrancar?'

'We did not consider that possibility,' he responded dryly. 'I am displeased by that; I do not know if we were guided into that chamber,' he said, casting a brief glance over his shoulder to the door of the control chamber, 'to specifically narrow our choices. Indeed, none of us is capable of restoring the machines to their functional state. Equally, we do not know whether restoring the machines is the only way of creating a link to the human world. We are also heading for the Hougyaku chamber only because one of them suggested it, and we are avoiding the traps within that chamber only because the other one stated their presence.'

He looked up, meeting her glance.

'All suggestions may have been misleading.'

Unohana sighed. Just like with everything else, when Byakuya began doubting, he did so thoroughly – and, in truth, the woman had to admit to herself, there was no powerful logical argument against his doubts. He may well have been right.

'I cannot tell you that you are wrong,' she said. 'I could,' she smiled, 'try to point out how unlikely such an elaborate deceit would be; that if they had been misleading us from the very beginning, their script was hopelessly lacking – with the leader of the rebellion deserting it at his earliest convenience, and another of the group's members deriving all of his strength from objects we can easily destroy in case of need...'

It was Byakuya's turn to frown, this time in open confusion; though Unohana's features were graced by the same benevolent smile, a fleeting shadow swam across the still, blue pools of her eyes.

'Do not tell me you have not considered the option,' Unohana stated, briefly. 'The Octava Espada's powers rest on his machines, and if what Renji says is correct, he now holds power over you. I suspect that, in the end, this is the root of your doubts,' she added. 'Before you became vulnerable, you could tolerate the margin of error because you thought _you_ would easily be able to face them down in case of dishonesty. You no longer feel assured of the same.'

The captain of the sixth division bit his lower lip, and, at the end of a few seconds of silent consideration, nodded.

'I think you worry too much,' the woman scolded. 'And you think yourself a bit more important than you are, at times,' she added, mischievously, making his cheeks gather a faint pinkish hue. 'Myself and Kenpachi are still around, you may wish to recall; we willingly joined you and we approved of your decision. Of the chances you took. And the reason why I am detached, as you well put it, is because I trust that as a group, we are on the right path, and more than able to face anything that comes our way. It only took one poor creature to thoroughly destroy this control chamber; in case of necessity, it would only take a Kido to destroy another, and incapacitate Granz without killing him or endangering vice-captain Kurosutchi.'

'If they turn on us, by the time we reach the eighth tower...'

'We would not need to,' Unohana said, simply. 'I left Isane behind. You left Rukia behind,' she added, in a slight reproachful undertone, as if she had meant to inquire why Byakuya forgot his sister's strengths.

The man gazed at her for a moment, then took an overly controlled breath.

'I had not reasoned though to that option,' he admitted at length.

'Because you are too honourable to think of building escape hatches,' Unohana shrugged. 'I am not. Do you still believe I am overly and senselessly detached?' she inquired, with an innocent wink, and, though he desperately tried to repress it, the shadow of a smile lifted the corner of his pale lips.

'No, _senpai_,' he answered, gracefully conceding defeat. 'I think that, as always, you are much more then you appear.'

The woman smiled in her turn, accepting the compliment – and had Unohana solely intended to stop Byakuya's struggles with questions and doubts, she might have stopped there. She did not; it was not that she disliked him questioning himself – it was the fact that he continuously asked himself the wrong questions.

'Although,' she began, tilting her head to the side, and glancing at him in a manner he could not truly place, 'I would prefer for it not to come to that. If it did, we would have no choice but to destroy them in the end. I would think that...most unfortunate,' she ended, softly.

'Why so?' Byakuya inquired.

Unohana's smile grew crooked, and he frowned.

'Retsu?' Byakuya asked, softly, dropping to the familiar form of address he rarely employed.

She shrugged.

'I should like to see us attempt to settle our differences with our momentary enemies in a different way, for once.' She responded, doubtfully. 'It seems like whatever situation we encounter, our solution is completely eradicating the opponent...Or those who accidentally fall in our path.' She added, as a distant afterthought.

'Over my long years,' she explained, strolling to his side and leaning against the wall in her turn, 'I have had the opportunity of observing the Gotei in quite a few moments of crisis. Each time – even on the occasion of the ryoka invasion – we have sought to solve our problems by blunt force. And sadly, on most occasions, we have succeeded. Equally, each time that we became inwardly divided, we sought to solve our differences by blunt force.'

Byakuya's eyes narrowed – it was as much as he needed to do to express disapproval. She reproachfully looked his way.

'You used Senbonzakura on Renji.'

'He was planning to stop an execution mandated by chamber 46,' he dryly returned.

'Rukia's execution,' Unohana scolded, her voice deprived of any warmth.

For as dear as Byakuya was to her, she keenly understood his limitations – Rukia's trial and condemnation had left him stunned and heartbroken. Much like everyone else, he had not understood the nature of his sister's crime, and though initially he had attempted to work his political influence in her favour, the fact that Chamber 46 remained immutable had made him suspect that she must have committed a serious offence, so serious that its nature could not be revealed outside the chamber. He'd had to bring himself to accept that – then, as was his nature, he had returned to the safety of Soul Society's laws, as an overflowing river returned to its bed, tried to stop thinking of anything else but obeying the rules, and not attempting to fight the inevitable. He'd attempted to stop Renji from doing the same; not necessarily because it went against the law, but because after losing his sister, he could not even imagine losing Renji as well.

Byakuya's violent clash against his lieutenant had not been an expression of narrow minded repression, but rather one of overpowering emotion. Renji had understood as much, and their relationship since had gathered depth, yet, in the short turn, and regardless of the attack's cause and Byakuya's inherent intent, its results had been devastating.

'It was also blunt force that set things right, in the end,' Unohana continued, after having assured herself that the meaning of her pause had not gone unnoticed. 'Ukitake's family seal _is _blunt force, and he went to great personal risks to stop something that the rest of us were content to regard as an execution, but would, in fact, have been nothing but murder.'

She paused, allowing the words to sink in.

'It is not that I have gathered sympathy for the Hollows simply because they have been humanized, although, I am not ashamed to admit there is a certain element of that, too. I had never suspected that in their evolution, the Menos classes grew so aware of themselves and so capable of intelligence...However, I cannot help but wonder if the fact that we can only express ourselves through extremes is the root of all of our common failures,' Unohana spoke. 'Each time we face a new situation, we fall in disarray; we panic; we attempt to crush.'

'That is how we have navigated all of our conflicts,' she continued, dreamily. 'The Quincy wars...'

She looked away from him and shook her head.

'They were inevitable,' Byakuya said.

'Yes, perhaps,' she admitted. 'But the atrocities committed in their aftermath were not. Also, Byakuya, centuries later, the culling of the Quincy led to the multiplication of the Bounto, and we painfully clashed against them, all but losing on our own territory. Do you not wonder if the powers, the ways, of these two different types of spiritually aware humans, had arisen to preserve a different balance than our own? That the natural order mandated that they keep each other in check, and by eradicating one side, we aided the other, to the ruin of countless human souls?'

He did not need to speak for her to know he was considering the possibility, and she needed nothing more; Unohana never meant to force decisions. She simply meant to inform them.

'And it is not only the Quincy wars,' she continued. 'We behaved similarly, seeking to utterly destroy before we understood with the ryoka invasion, the Bounto invasion, and many...' her voice broke, and she bit her lower lip, 'many _other _events that were before your time and are not spoken of today. And I dare say that this indentured, predictable response to all crises made Aizen's betrayal, and this, the greatest of our conflicts, possible. I'd like to think that it is not too late for us to learn our lessons, even now, in the thirteenth hour.'

'Each crisis is an opportunity,' Byakuya softly echoed, intuiting her thoughts.

'Indeed,' Unohana nodded, kindly. 'If we distance ourselves from the conflict – and you should be far better at doing that than I am – ' she joked, smiling wryly, ' there will never be a better opportunity. Nor better people to take advantage of it – though the transformations in our ranks have been painful, the Gotei _is_ transformed; Ukitake and Kyoraku are a different mettle and build than any that went before them. They have grown into their roles, and I see Yamamoto's confidence in them was greatly rewarded. With the two of them driving towards the future, and you keeping safe anchor in the past, we are in a more powerful and balanced philosophical position than we have ever been...It would be high time to approach things differently.' She concluded, with a minute shrug.

'Does it not strike you, however, that your choice of enemies to with reason is...' Byakuya began, his flat voice betraying none of the irritation that, despite his best efforts, shone in his eyes.

'Absolutely perfect?' she interrupted, ironically arching an eyebrow. 'They are our natural enemy, that is true enough. But, without our own failures in what regards Aizen, they would never have risen against us. It was by our own fault that their world was breached, and they had no choice but standing against us. Damned if they did, damned if they didn't...'

'Damned in any case, and because of their own natures, Retsu,' Byakuya said. 'Let us not forget _that.'_

'Let us not forget where we are,' she answered, in a cool tone. 'This is Hueco Mundo – here they are within their rights, and we have no more status than any Hollow would in Sereitei. You always speak of balance. This _is_ the balance. Suppressing Hollows that are within Hueco Mundo is not a Shinigami or balance preserving action; it is, in fact, dangerously akin to the philosophy of our friends, the Quincy.'

Byakuya blushed with displeasure at the paragon.

'They have repeatedly breached the human world,' he stated flatly.

'Not all of them, and we have no reason to assume that any of them did so willingly.' She retorted. 'In fact, if they are successful here, it will be us that drive them into the human world. Would you allow Granz to stay behind?'

'Of course not,' Byakuya answered.

'But you would judge him for breaching into the human world, although you yourself pressed him to cross?' she sweetly inquired – and this time, Byakuya truly frowned.

'Jaggerjaques made it a point of crossing into the human world at his whim,' he argued. 'We know that they have gained the ability of crossing at will, and that they are immensely powerful creatures – how then do you propose to leave these things unchecked in Hueco Mundo, when they theoretically could wreck havoc in the human world at any time?'

'They are not things. They are souls – you yourself had to be reminded of that a few minutes earlier.'

'The shape is deceptive. Souls that grow their reiatsu by consuming others of their kind are not truly souls. They are an abomination. Hollow hunger should be directed at humans, not other hollows – that is why all Menos classes represent such danger.'

'Vasto Lorde have always been as able to use occasional Garganta to cross into the human world as ordinary Hollows,' Unohana interrupted. 'Yet, we have never encountered one before. We have never even encountered the Hollows they refer to as Adjuchas. Why do you think that they would alter century old behaviour patterns _now?'_

'Because now they have reacquired their taste of it,' Byakuya answered, dryly.

'If you feel that strongly about it, why did you agree that we stay?' Unohana inquired; he drew a deep breath.

'A variety of tactical reasons,' Byakuya answered, after a moment of silence.

He stubbornly kept his glance fixed on the wall in front of him, refusing to face her. For a brief moment, the woman's eyes narrowed. Then, her smile returned to its resplendent serenity.

'You surprise me, Byakuya' she said, kindly. 'It is not that you are confused. It is that you are afraid; not that _you_ might lose, that we may actually lose this time.'

'Fear is only dangerous to those who fail to recognize it and act to counter its effects,' the man responded, not even bothering to try and contradict her intuition.

'Indeed,' she nodded, not adding anything further – she sensed he was angry enough to continue on his own.

'I fear,' Byakuya said, his voice on level, as if he had been describing a disagreeable bout of rain on an otherwise perfect Sunday afternoon, 'that we are ill prepared for what Aizen has created; I further fear that their capacity for collaboration and mutual understanding is far better than ours. I fear the fact their level of strength is beyond anything we have previously seen, and I fear the fact that their intelligence is beyond the norm – I fear them, not in combat, but in its aftermath, because he has made them aware, sentient, capable of rational hatred, but also capable of something akin to love. I fear them because he has made them...'

'...like us.' She completed, in a gentle whisper.

He contented himself on a nod, and heavy silence melded with the solid darkness of the corridor.

'Truth be told,' he continued at length, 'I also find myself fearing their honesty more than their dishonesty; if they are deceiving us and manage to achieve victory, I will have lost for taking the honourable course of action, to the despair of my logical instincts. But if they are honest, I fear being trapped between my rational knowledge that such dangerous things cannot be allowed to exist unchecked, and my heart's disgust at judging loyal allies.'

Sometimes, Unohana thought, glancing at him, it was easy to understand why entire families dedicated all of their life and time to avoiding devising answers to open questions. It was, indeed, a thoroughly painful exercise, and though Byakuya's voice, demeanour and reiatsu betrayed no outward change, she could see that he was in pain.

'It is quite likely that it will not be your decision,' she said, kindly, deciding to end his torment. 'The captain-commander and Chamber 46 will make it.'

'Acceptance is a decision in itself,' the man responded, swiftly meeting her glance. Unohana recoiled, almost taking a step away and wondering if Byakuya knew how much justified reproach his voice and gaze had just carried, and whether he had meant to remind her how of many ill conceived decisions her neutral acceptance had aided.

'What coward you must think me sometimes, Byakuya,' she said, softly.

'No, _senpai_, never,' He'd rushed to deny, his voice so uncharacteristically hot and sincere that she had chuckled. 'Why would you say that?'

Perhaps he truly did not, she'd conceded to herself; perhaps it was true that the greatest enemy of the guilty was their own guilt.

_It does not change the fact that sometimes I think myself a coward, _she thought, judging herself with as much serene detachment as she judged everyone else.

For sometimes, she feared open questions as well.

Had it not been precisely that why she had accepted the leadership of the 4th division? A position where she would never have to do anything more than inform decisions – never make them, never enforce them – but most of all, a position where she could live with the illusion that she did not carry the weight of their consequences?

_Oh, Shinji...Kensei..._

But it was just that – an illusion. Some consequences could never truly be shed.

'For no reason,' she answered, feeling her heart sink as he nodded in reinforcement of his earlier denial.

She clenched her teeth, wishing that she had felt less ashamed of the fact that she was inwardly happy Byakuya could not have known about the decision that she regarded as the Gotei's – her – single greatest failure.

'The solid, balancing anchor to the past of the new Gotei...' he echoed, jolting her from her thoughts. 'In a world where Ukitake and Kyoraku are the breath of the new, is that all that _I_ am?'

She looked to him, and imagined that in his eyes, indeed, in the depths of his soul, shadows of his father and Yamamoto Genryusai, on one side, and Ukitake, Hisana and Renji on the other – all that was old that Byakuya worshipped, and all that was new and Byakuya loved - had been facing each other in mortal combat.

'I think you are a man who will not be in need of a guide for much longer,' Unohana said, kindly.

The fact that Kuchiki Byakuya did not seem convinced of the statement did not make it less true.

* * *

Up next - I think it is time for Stark and Lili? Though I would actually prefer to get to the Hougyaku first. Hm. We shall see what we shall see!


	59. Planning Capacity

Good evening :) and thank you all for reading and reviewing :)

Chapter 58 - Where we *hope* to return to the main storyline...

* * *

Lilinette frowned, trying to keep her reiatsu on level. The exercise seldom worked, and, given the young Arrancar's state of agitation, she supposed it would not work now – still, given all the racket caused by the others, she was not overly concerned that she would be discovered.

The Shinigami must have noticed the death of their two companions, and the old one really looked as if he'd been about to burst a head vein.

Good, the girl thought, her pretty features twisting into an ugly smirk. That was exactly as it should have been.

The rest of them looked equally concerned – one of them, the really massive one, had vanished in the direction of the crumbled tower, in spite of the fact that no orders to the effect had been spoken. The others lingered about in complete confusion, casting odd and strained glances over their shoulders. Lilinette counted four presences; all of them, with the exception of one were captains, but even the one who was not wearing a white haori felt very strong.

Lilinette inched forward, letting her impatience get the best of her.

She could not truly gauge their levels of strength, nor could she hear them from the ledge where she had crouched and which was well over fifty feet away from the captain-commander. He was the only one she could truly assess, and the only one who seemed to be stronger than Stark – but it was, perhaps simply because he let his reiatsu loose and covered all of the others. The two younger men seemed more composed, though their faces expressed far more worry than the old man's. The old man just looked enraged.

'You done?' she asked, without looking over her shoulder to know that Stark had appeared behind her.

'Yes,' he responded.

'Halibel all right?' she asked in a cold tone.

While Lilinette's reiatsu sensing abilities were still as immature and unpredictable as the rest of her skills, she could always feel Stark – and, even if the link provided by the fact that she possessed so much of his spiritual energy had not been there, she would have known that he had gone to speak to Halibel immediately after she had left his side. It was the sort of thing he would do.

'She is. She's not happy, but she is all right. Don't be petty,' he scolded, frowning lightly at her disapproving expression.

Lilinette's eyes narrowed and she cranked her nose; she measured him for a few more seconds, then once again turned to the Shinigami.

'If you think I don't know she's still after ya, you're mistaken,' the girl said, with a little sigh. 'And I dunno why you'd always go back to this cycle, Stark, cuz it always ends the same way – when she wants you, you don't want her, and when you want her, she don't want you.'

'That's easy, really,' the man answered, with the shadow of a smile. 'She doesn't want me when I'm being myself, and I don't want her when she's not being herself.'

'She ain't been herself for a while now,' Lilinette said; her voice had not been reproachful.

The Fraccion was not overly fond of Halibel; not only because the blonde Espada's relationship to Stark had always been beyond her comprehension – to her, even before Aizen, there was nothing to like about Halibel, except, of course, for her boobs. The damned woman never smiled, spoke like she spoke out of a bleeding book, and one couldn't really talk to her about anything.

Or at least, Lilinette could not. And, since Lilinette had never found that she had trouble communicating with anyone else, _ever!_ she could only suspect that this was some sort of tremendous shortcoming on Halibel's behalf.

There was, Lilinette had to admit to herself, the small element of not wanting to like Halibel. But that was OK – in the end, the Fraccion had started out by not liking Neliel Tu, either, and that had been fixed. In Lilinette's honest opinion, if Nel had managed to make herself liked in a year, there must have been something wrong with a woman that hadn't managed to make herself liked in a century.

Or maybe it wasn't that, Lilinette admitted to herself, after casting a brief glance to the side at Stark, who looked preoccupied and tired. Maybe the problem was that she knew Stark had really liked Halibel; that he'd liked her for a very long time, and that, herself aside, Halibel was the only person he'd constantly allowed in his presence. Even when Nel had been around, there had always been an unspoken notion of temporary about her. Lilinette had never truly thought Nel was going to stick, and that simple fact had made her relationship to Stark tolerable.

Yeah, Lilinette thought, pursing her lips. That had to be it. Neliel Tu had never made Lilinette doubt that Stark belonged to _her_.

Halibel had. An' she still did.

Maybe, in the end, she hadn't really needed to hear Grimm say it was Halibel that had never cared about Stark, and that it had always been the other way round. Lilinette had known it, felt it, although she didn't like thinking about it too much, and maybe, just maybe, the moment when Stark had said he was going to kill Halibel if all things went the right way had made the Fraccion just a little bit _happy_. And though she knew the feeling wasn't nice, she'd still had it; it hadn't started in her brain, but in her stomach. Or maybe a little lower than her stomach.

Maybe this was the thing Grimm called _ovu…ovo…ovarian thinking_.

She hadn't doubted Stark's intentions when he had said he would kill Halibel if and when it was needed. Lilinette had known him too long to be in any doubt about the fact that he cleared his way when he needed to; he'd built his power on the cynical selection of allies and actions at every turn, and it had been like that since the beginning of time, or at least, ever since she could remember. She had always been just a little bit afraid of this side of him, and she'd always protested against it loudly – because she honestly thought that lying was _absolute gayness, _and because she couldn't quite get how he managed to so quickly and unfailingly shake himself free of feeling guilty.

But the reason why she had made a racket over Halibel was not the same as the reason why she'd made a racket about the rest. It was not really that she'd been afraid that he'd kill her and not feel any regret. It was actually that she knew that in this case, he would regret it.

And, starting from her lower stomach, this pissed her off.

And scared her.

And made her feel really, really…

…_jealous_.

'Doubt she'll ever be herself again,' Lilinette said, swallowing dry.

'I know,' Stark said, softly.

He kneeled by the girl's side, looking ahead, and frowned at the echoes of the reiatsu bursting in from the distance.

'A bankai,' he observed, breathing in deeply.

'Not a very strong one,' Lilinette returned. 'But it's motherfucking _big_!' she almost exclaimed, as a gigantic, dark clad figure grew against the sky, blotting out the illusionary sun.

The creature, which stood almost a hundred feet in height, straightened its back and stretched its arms, as if warming up his muscles – which was odd, Lilinette thought, since even from afar one could tell it was nothing but a huge and empty set of armor – then turned around and headed away, crushing everything in its path.

'Whose tower was that?' he asked.

'Was the one that fell over just now,' Lilinette answered. 'Think Po was on it.'

As if to confirm her words, a massive, bone white figure rose out of the dust and rabble to meet the dark armor suit – the girl frowned.

'But it don't feel like the tower's fallen,' she said, softly, making him look down at her in surprise. 'This shit wobbled for a moment,' the girl explained, knocking on the stone of the ledge. 'It ain't wobbling now.'

'I didn't feel a thing,' Stark shrugged.

'That's cuz you weren't sitting on it when it was wobbling,' she giggled, feeling rather proud of herself. 'There ya go!' she exclaimed – behind them, the pillar to the west, the one where they had left Findor crumbled as well, and, indeed, the stone beneath their feet became translucent. For no longer than a split second; it regained its opacity immediately, but, just as Lilinette had said, it felt different, uncertain.

It felt like standing on ice, Stark admitted to himself – not thin ice, that would break at any second, but ice nonetheless; one could feel the energies swirling beneath one's feet.

The Shinigami spun around hastily, eyes widened in shock; and though the pink, flowery haori had almost hidden it, the worried and pained face of the white-haired captain was clearly visible, for a second. Less than a second.

Stark's heart froze, and his breath caught painfully in his chest.

_Where do I know this man from?_ He frowned, wishing he could have approached more, and shaken the ominous feeling that grew in his chest, spreading like mold.

'Now they gotta do something,' Lilinette exclaimed, with no little satisfaction. He nodded, forcing his glance away from Ukitake and towards his intended enemy.

Yamamoto had not aged a day. He looked exactly the same as he had three hundred years before – the same mummified, parchment-like skin, the same white beard…although, perhaps, his features boasted a few more scars. His reiatsu had grown stronger, too, and as the fall of the second tower fuelled his anger, it became tangible and stifling.

Lilinette winced at the sensation, and he blindly extended his arm to the side, allowing her to lean against it.

'Shit,' she whispered.

The word jolted him back to immediate reality, and he glanced to his side; the Fraccion looked pale and short of breath. A bead of clear sweat slipped down the side of her neck, disappearing under her vest.

He bit his lower lip, guessing the cause of her discomfort; Yamamoto's anger made his reiatsu expand to the point where all the reishi particles in the air gathered its flavor. Just like Aizen, Stark thought – they could not absorb or truly control spirit energy that was not their own, but, for brief periods, they could certainly render it toxic for those around them. They could make the air unbreatheable, and heavy, and sickening.

_Just like the decaying corpses they are,_ he thought, turning to face his Fraccion. He gently laid one palm on the back of Lilinette's shoulders, and the other on top of her sternum, taking great care that his fingers did not reach under her vest. She scowled a little as a faint portion of his Hierro began whirring protectively around her, and opened her mouth to protest – but, rather than speak, she took a deep breath, welcoming the suddenly cooler air.

'Keep away from that one,' he whispered.

Lilinette scowled in protest; however, when she spoke, her voice was so small and hesitant that he could barely recognize it.

'_You_ keep away from him,' she responded, swallowing dry, and wincing at his wide grin. 'Did you get hit over the head?' she exclaimed, on such a loud tone that he felt obliged to frown and shush her. Lilinette was not impressed. 'Have you gone fucking bonkers? You didn't wanna go after the rest, but you wanna go after _that?_ With Ulquiorra still clawing his way out of your stomach? Ha?'

Instead of an answer, Stark took his palm off her shoulders to briefly pull the collar of his tunic slightly to the side, exposing his collarbone.

'What?' the girl asked, in mild amusement. 'You gonna show me your manly chest and hope that I will be impressed into silence?'

'Fail?' he asked, arching an eyebrow, and the Fraccion unwillingly giggled.

'Yeh,' she answered. 'Unless you tear the tunic off completely and start beating your chest like a gorilla…'

'How charming!' he muttered, slightly taken aback, but smiling nonetheless. 'No, Lilinette, I am showing you that Ulquiorra has gone.'

Her smile faded; though Stark's skin was still exceedingly pale for human standards, the white blotch of skin and its disgusting pink and raw edges had completely vanished, melding into the background.

'I am fine,' the Primera said softly. 'He's gone.'

Lilinette's glance did not grow less reproachful.

'Likely cuz Aizen made it go away, with his little crystal ball,' she muttered.

'Probably,' he admitted, his palm returning to the back of her shoulders.

'Yeh, well, careful he don't make everything else go away too,' the Fraccion snarled; she meaningfully stared at him for a second longer, but when he failed to produce anything but a shrug as response to her warning, she huffed in dismay, and once again turned her eyes to the scene.

Sheathing her sword, Halibel materialized behind the Shinigami. Next to her, looking years if not decades older, Apache and Sun-Sun followed – a wide grin settled on Barragan's features as he cast a brief glance over his shoulder, at the still immutable wall of fire.

'He's not in there anymore,' Lilinette said, non-directionally, and this time, her voice had been so low that even Stark who was less than a foot away could barely make out the words. He nodded, nonetheless. That's what he had felt too, and the thing he was counting on the most.

'Come out, Stark,' Barragan drawled, leaning his crowned head back as if he had been speaking to the sky.

'Drat,' the Primera muttered, under his breath.

One hand resolutely pressed on Lilinette's shoulder and keeping her within his Hierro, Stark stood and drifted upwards, scratching the back of his head and yawning so wide that his jaws cracked. He came to stand some ten feet to Halibel's right, and gave the Tercera a small nod. She nodded in return.

'There's only four of them,' Lilinette whispered, making Stark cast a brief and amused glance her way; anyone else might have thought the Fraccion was reassuring herself, but he knew far better.

'Five,' he lazily responded, after a short and sharp breath.

Halibel nodded again, and Lilinette scowled. Whatever biting remark had been on her lips however got stuck there, as Yamamoto drifted forth.

'Get them!' he shouted, the power and fury in his voice making the fake walls all about tremble.

'Whohoo!' Lilinette giggled. 'Must think everyone's as hard of hearin' as he is!'

'We must risk our lives to defeat them here!' Yamamoto continued, in the same tone. Somewhere in the distance, dust and shattered rock rose towards the sky.

'The mind boggles at the sheer planning capacity,' Halibel observed, with half a voice.

'They must never set foot in Soul Society!' the Captain-Commanded concluded – all of his companions turned outwards, seeking and finding their targets. The white haired man without a haori made for Halibel at amazing speed, drawing his elegant rapier as he rushed forth. The two younger captains turned on Stark, while Yamamoto himself continued to face Barragan.

The exchange of glances between Halibel and Stark was too brief for anyone but Lilinette to notice, but not even she got the time to frown questioningly. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she did wonder why the Tercera had not been paying attention to the enemy that had chosen her. Yet, as the vice-captain's rapier cut through thin air, and Halibel's reiatsu scattered like a gust of fiery wind, the little girl smirked and looked up at her Espada.

'They still ain't got much in the way of a plan,' she said. Stark shrugged.

'But you do,' Lilinette added.

This time, Stark's shrug was almost apologetic.

* * *

'I completely disagree…' Ishida rebelliously began.

'Shut up and type,' Szayel interrupted, briskly.

Behind the archer, Verona nodded in frightened haste, prompting Ishida to stop questioning further.

'You don't even know if the power types are compatible!' the Quincy continued, oblivious to the Fraccion's terrified meep. The image on the screen before them blurred and shook, as testimony to the fact that the Arrancar had either slapped his forehead, or shook his head in momentous dismay.

'Say something, Nemu-chan,' Szayel prompted. 'I am very tempted to insult him, at the moment.'

'His assertion is correct,' Nemu answered blankly; just as Ishida opened his mouth to enjoy his success, she continued. 'Your assertion is not incorrect either, Szayel Aporro Granz.'

Though she noticed Ishida's exasperated features, Isane could not contain a chuckle.

'You're not really helping, Nemu,' she said, posing a hand on Nemu's shoulder, and making the dark-haired young woman stiffly turn about and blankly glance at her.

'I fail to comprehend,' she blinked. 'Is it required that I make an undereducated guess?'

'Erm,' Isane stuttered, with wide eyes. 'Uh, I am not sure.'

'I can make an undereducated guess, if the situation calls for it,' Nemu eagerly affirmed.

'But I thought you understood all of…that,' Isane said, gesturing towards the screen.

'She does, vice-captain Kotetsu,' Szayel answered, in a deeply bored voice. 'But, had you been paying attention, you might have noted we have progressed _faaar _beyond the idea of restoring Gin's power generator to a functional state.'

'It is too…'

Nemu's eyes went blank for a second, as she clearly searched for an expression that would please Isane.

'…totally Renji-at-the-free-sake-festival trashed,' she said, dryly.

'Hey!' Renji protested.

'I still wonder how you managed to give _yourself_ a black eye,' Rukia said, in the background.

'I didn't notice the door was locked,' the red-haired Shinigami muttered.

'For two hours and a half.' Byakuya said; Szayel's brief glance in Renji's direction showed his face had turned a bright shade of crimson.

'…and my key did not fit,' Renji said, faintly.

'That may be explained by the fact that it was _my_ door,' Byakuya patiently responded.

Rukia almost chocked.

'Moving on,' Szayel sighed. 'Whatever simile one may use for the state of the generator, it is clear that it cannot be repaired within the assumed timeframe; alternative sources of power must be used. I have, therefore, suggested using the resistance structure of the walls to divert power from my tower, just as Gin has used them to create the reiatsu based illusion.'

'That would be a time-effective solution,' Nemu approved. 'However,' she added, 'to Ishida Uryu's point - there is the off chance that the two types of power are incompatible…'

'In which case, we'll end up burning the controls,' Ishida huffed.

'Well, we cannot know until we try it, can we…'Szayel purred.

'The problem is that unlike with the rest of your experiments, where you can afford to kill the hamster, if we burn these out, there'll be no second coming,' the archer contradicted.

'Kill the hamster?' Nemu and Isane frowned at the same time.

'One of Lilinette's unparalleled pearls of wisdom,' Szayel snarled, in an audibly irritated tone. 'And since you have no logical basis to stand on, other than the ironic musings of a thirteen year old with one eye and half a cerebellum, please shut up and type! My custom object library as well as my calculations are at your disposal. All you need to do is write a small re-routing interface to already mapped power grid nodes…'

'No,' Ishida stubbornly repeated. 'You'll burn everything out.'

'Questioned! At every turn! I cannot work under these conditions,' Szayel shrieked, throwing his arms up in theatrical exasperation.

'The neutral solution would be testing the power supply's compatibility with the panels beforehand.' Nemu put in.

'Exactly!' both men exclaimed at the same time.

'Given the large number of dislodged boards, a suitably functional one could be selected and tested separately; I would suggest either one that contains non-critical paths, or one that is placed in a fully-mirrored configuration.'

'Of course,' Szayel agreed, while, next to Nemu, Ishida nodded in his turn.

'Then I must state that I fail to comprehend the issue,' the dark haired young woman said, a mild trace of irritation in her voice. 'If both of you agree to the process, the high levels of adrenaline and testosterone that I detect – respectively intuit – from you are an entirely unnecessary drain on my emotional processing centers.'

'He didn't say he was going to test the power input on a separate circuit beforehand,' Ishida rebelliously muttered, throwing a vile glance at Isane, who openly giggled behind his back.

'Well of course I was going to test it beforehand!' Szayel exclaimed. 'Who do you mistake me for, vice-captain Abarai?!'

'In that case, Szayel Aporro, it's not only your coding that _sucks_, but also your verbal communication capacity!'

'…coming from one who must employ the word _sucks_, rather than a pluri-syllabic synonym, I can see how this is an insult that would make my head spin…'

Nemu's eyes narrowed.

'I am registering irritation levels that are close to corrective action thresholds,' she announced, in a dry tone. 'You,' she said, turning towards Ishida, 'type. You,' she spoke towards the screen, 'present me with a suitable circuit board.'

'Nemu-chan,' Szayel Aporro purred, 'that was a delightful response. If I may inquire…'

'You may not,' the young woman responded. 'The information pertaining to my emotional processing center variables,' she recited, 'is proprietary to the captain of the 12th division, Kurosutchi Mayuri, or, in the event of Kurosutchi Mayuri's incapacity, to the former captain of the 12th division, Urahara Kisuke.'

'Who?' Isane and Rukia inquired, in a single voice, but on different tonalities. Uncharacteristically, Nemu shrugged.

'It is a pre-recorded response,' she answered – then, with the speed of lightning and almost whipping Ishida across the face with her braid, she once again spun towards the screens. 'I am not seeing you go through a board triage process, Szayel Aporro Granz.'

Ishida snickered at Szayel's insulted huff. Nonetheless, an instant and a cutting glance from Nemu later, he'd lowered his forehead and began typing hastily, as images of circuit boards in various states of disrepair began succeeding each other across the screen.

'For time efficiency reasons, it would be reccomendable…' Nemu began, but this time, Szayel Aporro didn't let her finish.

'…that I think of interfacing methods, in case the power sources are, indeed, incompatible,' the Octava completed. 'Yes, Nemu-chan, that goes without saying.'

'Correct,' she approved.

In Ichimaru Gin's control chamber, Szayel Aporro grinned to himself, and kneeled beside yet another circuit board.

He'd been thinking of just that, and he already had a solution in mind; the sensor that he always carried – the very same one that he had employed to make sense of the circuit switches of Gin's security system – would come in very handy. Adapting power, and especially such high levels of it, was not its basic functionality, but some of the capacitors in its make-up had a wide range of adaptability and could be tweaked for the purpose. Once that was achieved, it would not be difficult to create a power adaptor, and suitably revive the functional interfaces of Gin's control room.

Disabling the power generator that fed into the security systems of the Hougyaku chamber would not be more difficult than identifying and shutting down power to the devices that kept the Garganta sealed. Perhaps, the Octava thought, the Quincy's coding abilities would not even be required – if the machines could simply be taken offline, there'd be no need to override any code.

Another thing that made Szayel Aporro Granz feel positively wonderful was the fact that he could now be sure that whatever Stark had left behind for him to find, it would not be in the Hougyaku chamber. The former Segunda would not have had the time to place any information there while the traps and security system were still enabled.

_That eliminates one center of the Labyrinth, _Szayel thought.

It left just two.

The second tower was within seconds of Shumpo – yet, after careful consideration, Szayel had dismissed that as a possibility as well. Las Noches was circular, and spread outwards, with the most important buildings at its center, and secondary towers spreading gradually towards the desert. Following that logic, the second tower should have been further from the center than the first. And, as corroborating evidence, Lilinette had left her cryptic message out of the first tower.

He'd search there first.

It was unlikely that Kuchiki would require his presence in the Hougyaku chamber, and, even if he did, there was a myriad excuses Szayel Aporro could invent for staying behind – such, as, say, monitoring any unpredictable, motion triggered devices that could come on-line as the room was approached.

And he'd need no more than five to seven minutes unsupervised.

Not unmanageable; if he could sufficiently exaggerate the dangers that lay in waiting, Abarai would surely join his captain in the Hougyaku chamber; furthermore, his transmitter was the only untraceable one of the lot. As long as he maintained communications, there would be no reason for anyone to query his whereabouts. Not now, that the Quincy – who seemed to have the most inquisitive mind of them all – was suitably numbed with the sensation of power the Arrancar had willingly surrendered.

_Five to seven minutes. No more._

'Nemu-chan?' he asked, holding a circuit board before his face, and exposing it to the camera. 'I believe this is a good trial selection.'

The young woman hesitated for a moment, and, in the back of his mind, Szayel Aporro could almost feel her thought racing across the wires and components of the board – searching for functionalities, for imperfections, for any reason why the circuit could have been dismissed…

'I agree,' she said, dryly.

'A moment, please,' Ishida muttered. 'I am not done…'

Szayel let out a demonstratively superior sigh, and began impatiently tapping his fingers on the side of the board. Maybe the Quincy was good at coding, but he definitely was not fast enough, the Arrancar thought, with no small amount of self-satisfaction.

If Szayel Aporro's faith in his own perfection was to be considered an Universal constant, then the Universe should have stopped its sprockets at that very instant.

It was not that Ishida was slow in coding. He was, in absolute terms, tremendously fast.

The delay was caused by something else – something that, had it been known to Szayel Aporro, would have made the pink-haired Arrancar's self assurance crumble like a castle of playing cards.

Ishida was not late because he was not good enough; he was simply late because he'd discovered one additional thing to code.

With Szayel's object library and the map of all power nodes within Las Noches at his disposal, Ishida Uryu had realized something that was momentously complicated, yet momentously simple, at the same time.

If the Octava had a secondary set of panels, this would have to be powered as well; given Szayel's secretive disposition, it was quite clear that the end node would not show up in the power grid. Thus, everything that needed to be done to find Szayel's hidden controls, would be to identify the one power node in the eighth tower that had no obvious purpose whatsoever.

'Done,' Ishida said, in triumph; the words 'Compiled, no errors found' blinked innocently across the screen.

* * *

Next Up - Well, Xmas! (the next super political, complex and sad chapter of Just Before Dawn went up, btw...Grimmjow and Crew are up next on there) ...and up next, Byakuya may become a dad.

Yes, touching the Hougyaku without gloves will do that to you...


	60. The Great Divide

Good evening, all, and thank you for all the reads and reviews :) I'm greatful to everyone who drops me a note, anonnymous or not - but rememebr, if you leave an annonymous comment and/or question, I can't really respond to it :( I apologise for that, but you're appreciated nonetheless :)

And let the holidays start :)

As usual, all thanks to Maidros who reads my stuff before I impose it on y'all :)

Chapter 60 - Where Stark remembers what he forgot. (And it's nothing good.)

* * *

Sasakibe Chojiro frowned, looking around hastily; the position of his guard as well as the position of his shoulders changed rapidly, as if he had been expecting an attack to land from any direction, at any second. Still, despite his tense attention, nothing occurred for long, torturous seconds – none of the Arrancar moved, and his chosen opponent did not resurface. He cast an uncertain glance over his shoulder, to Yamamoto, as if preparing to ask what his next action should be.

The lieutenant barely had time to meet his captain's glance, when the noise of a massive explosion in the distance made him spin about himself yet again – Komamura's reiatsu, fully unleashed, whipped out in burning, punishing waves, while the gigantic suit of armor slowly turned around, demolishing all the tall buildings that stood in its path. Given the fact that the bone-white, lumbering silhouette of his former opponent still loomed dangerously behind him, it was clear that Komamura had just had a desperate defensive reaction towards a new opponent.

Lilinette looked up and smiled.

'You an' Halibel didn't waste no time on sweet-talk, huh,' she ironically remarked.

'Proud of me?' Stark winked.

'Yeh, yeh,' she admitted. 'So, what do we wanna do?'

'Split them,' he responded dryly, and assessing Ukitake and Kyoraku though the narrowed corners of his eyes. 'Split them and get them as far away from Yamamoto as possible. Give Aizen some room to maneuver,' he added, under his breath.

'What d'ya wanna do about Barragan? He's fuming cuz you an' Halibel-sama planned around him,' Apache noted, slowly drifting closer to Stark and Lilinette.

She'd been left alone. SunSun was nowhere in sight; she had probably followed Halibel, and waited to assist her in case of need. Judging by the storm of reiatsu that the Tercera was generating, though, SunSun's attention would scarcely be needed. It was probably why Halibel had agreed to the most unusual separation of her Fracciones; she was certainly stronger than Komamura, and Po's reiatsu still pulsed steadily.

'Not sure,' Stark admitted, stealing a concerned glance at Apache, whose concentration and power were more important to him than Barragan's, for the moment. The dark-haired Fraccion had certainly given him a great amount of hateful gazes, which Stark attributed to the fact that she thought he'd led Grimmjow astray, then abandoned him to his fate. She had not been happy to be assigned to him, but, the Primera thought, Halibel's orders were hard to refuse.

'Ya OK?' Lilinette asked, in a quiet voice; Apache's attention, which had been resentfully focused on Stark, slipped to his Fraccion.

'Sorta,' Apache responded, frowning a little.

'I'm sorry,' Lilinette continued, and the dark-haired young woman's jaws clenched painfully. She could sense that Lilinette's sympathy was genuine, though, and she acknowledged it with a nod. 'I'll look out for ya,' Lilinette promised – in spite of the fact that her reiatsu was deeply disturbed and her eyes were laden with sorrow, Apache found the strength for a tiny grin.

She drifted closer; the Primera nodded unconsciously.

Stark could always count on Lilinette to mend the ill-will that he caused; whatever Apache felt for him, at the moment, it did not change the fact that she and Lilinette got along and would be more than able to fight together; all other things could wait.

'What do ya want me to do?' Apache shot, not looking Stark's way, as if to pointedly show he'd obey him just because Halibel had told her to.

'Let's go for the south tower,' Lilinette spoke instead of him, making him arch an ironic eyebrow. 'Well, you wanna split them, no?' the Fraccion shot. 'South's farthest away.'

The logic was sound, Stark thought – with the notable exception of the fact that the southern tower was _really_ the farthest away. Following his own plan, he'd have to draw at least one of the younger captains north, and leave Barragan just as where he was. If Lilinette got in trouble, and his own battle turned out as difficult as he expected, he'd have a hard time reaching her.

'He's just a bloody lieutenant, eh,' Lilinette scowled, reading his mind.

Stark scowled in return, not in disagreement, but merely to demonstrate his displeasure at the fact that not all circumstances of the universe were under his direct control – had he had power over Barragan, he'd certainly have dispatched him to the northern tower and kept his own opponent in the center, from where he'd not only be able to help Lilinette, in case of need, but also keep a better eye on Aizen.

'Don't show off too much,' he muttered in surrender. Lilinette grinned wide, taking the time to make a victory sign in his direction, before she floated forward to attract Sasakibe's eye as only she could.

'Heya! Old moustache dude!' she yelled. 'You look like you wanna be kicked but don't know by who!'

She stopped some twenty feet away from the Shinigami, smiling resplendently at his confused stare.

'I,' she proclaimed, 'am here to solve your problem! An' not only that problem, but every other problem, too, cuz once I become your problem, you'll forget about all the rest…'

'Slightly complex,' Stark muttered from behind. 'Also, somewhat repetitive…'

'Yo!' she shot over her shoulder, her glance announcing she did not require feedback on her opening line. 'I'm talkin' here!'

'Fine,' he apologetically put in.

'Captain,' Sasakibe began, not looking at the girl, but to Yamamoto – Stark clenched his teeth.

He had qualms about fighting her_,_ just like Abarai did, the Primera realized, guessing what the lieutenant was thinking, and feeling a reassuring surge of fury.

_But one of you surely had no qualms about judging her._

_Hypocrites._

'Captain commander?' Sasakibe repeated, fully turning around; he actually looked insulted, Stark thought, with a small smirk. The Shinigami lieutenant must have seen Lilinette was a Fraccion, and, if her shape had not been enough of a deterrent, he clearly thought the girl was beneath his capabilities.

_Good._

If there was anything that made Lilinette angry, it was being underestimated.

Lilinette smirked in her turn.

'Hit an' run, Apache,' she said dryly; the other girl grinned, needing no further instructions.

Sasakibe barely had time to acknowledge the hiss of Apache's circular blade hurling towards him – he hastily spun, bringing his rapier up for a parry, in a pointless gesture, for the weapon had been aimed at Lilinette rather than the Shinigami.

'What…' the first division lieutenant began, his attention suddenly shifting to the dark-haired Fraccion – her arm stretched in front of her chest, Apache gave him no attention. Her circle, with the dark pool at its center, flew towards Lilinette at bewildering speed, threatening to sever her in half. The blonde did not react in any way, oblivious to the spinning thorns that approached her from behind; even Stark frowned, moving forward all but reaching for his sword.

But, though all movement was almost too fast to register, his hand froze in mid motion.

It was not because he'd understood what Lilinette and Apache meant to do, or because his Fraccion had finally begun to hint at some sort of evasive maneuver – no. It was because, beyond Lilinette and Sasakibe, the white-haired Shinigami captain had drifted forth in his turn, hand on the hilt of his zanpakutoh – and though the motion had been minute, and its true aim hard to guess, Stark had had the irrepressible feeling that the man had not meant to come to the aid of his companion, but rather to Lilinette's aid.

The glances of Shinigami and Espada crossed, for a mere second, sweet hazel seeping into steel blue - questioning and concerned, and, above all, Stark thought, in utter incomprehension, _reproachful._

As if the white-haired captain had been genuinely amazed at the fact that the Espada would let his underling face such danger. As if he'd been genuinely concerned, not for himself, or Sasakibe, or for the outcome of the battle…as if, for that single, split second, the only thing he'd been worried about was Lilinette herself.

Both men stopped in their tracks, as if the tension in their eyes had been a physical barrier; with the flick of Apache's fingers, that made the serrated, circular blade abruptly stop and rotate upwards at a right angle, the puzzle pieces of Stark's memory fell into place, and all of the unnamed fear that had been growing in the Espada's bones finally gained solid substance.

_The uniform…Such small a thing, such menial a detail…_

With fluid grace, Lilinette leaned back, melting into the darkness at the center of Apache's blade; the odd-eyed girl smiled, once again setting her palm flat. Obeying the motion, the circle returned to its horizontal stand.

Apache's arm swung into a tight half circle, and the blade followed, whirring around Sasakibe. It remained just out of his rapier's reach; the Shinigami lieutenant turned around, but Apache had anticipated the move. By the time Sasakibe had spun on himself again, the blade had already switched trajectory and rotation direction. It stopped just a foot behind his shoulders.

Then, burning light exploded from the darkness.

With speed that turned her entire body into energy, Lilinette emerged from the center of Apache's circle. No parry was possible against her momentum and strength. The claws on her right hand sunk into the Shinigami's shoulder, his body registering the pain before his mind had even acknowledged her presence.

'Ya think you're too good for us?' she hissed, allowing inertia to carry her upwards and into a vertical flick – Sasakibe looked over his shoulder, in shock, his face barely half an inch from Lilinette's upside down features; for a moment, he felt as if the entire Universe had stood still. 'Think again,' she said – her left hand weapon sunk into his other shoulder, over his head, and the girl used the support point to spin on herself, so that when she finally landed, she landed facing him.

He caught her kick with the blade of his rapier, but the blood that splattered on the blonde Arrancar's stomach was his own, when the forgotten blade of Apache's circle brushed by his side, biting into his waist. Neither attack had been meant to kill him, but Sasakibe did not notice, simply dismissing their lack of proper aim as an ill side effect of their tremendous speed. They'd just caught him off guard, the Shinigami lieutenant thought, frowning – they'd caught him off guard, but they had failed to make the best of it. It would not happen again

As if reading his mind and dismissing his thoughts, Lilinette threw her head back and laughed, sweet, innocent chuckles akin to the sound of crystal bells. The other Fraccion's circle whirred under her feet, and the blonde vanished, only to emerge out of the darkness once Apache's circle had safely returned to its mistress' hand.

The two girls exchanged an amused glance.

'Let's do the tower,' Lilinette chuckled. 'No point in wastin' time here. He ain't fast enough to stop us.'

'He ain't even fast enough to catch up with us,' Apache taunted, in her turn, odd eyes cruelly narrowed, and mockingly glancing at the Shinigami.

Sonido erased Lilinette's white figure from the blue background of the sky.

'Stop her,' Yamamoto grunted, but his command was not needed; his lieutenant vanished long before he heard the command.

Stark did not register the movements, and for the first time in centuries, even Lilinette's reiatsu dropped from his mind; he only noticed Ukitake, who looked towards Yamamoto as if he'd intended to protest, and shook his white tresses in disagreement and sorrow.

Not the same uniform, Stark thought, dully.

_That's why I didn't immediately see it. Not the same uniform._

The last time he'd seen this one, he'd been wearing something different, something blue and white – his face had been younger, his hair had been shorter, but the look in his eyes…

The look in Ukitake Joushirou's eyes, the concern, the doubt, the loathing for threat of violence upon a creature he could not accept as an enemy, the unquestionably sincere compassion with which he had glanced at Lilinette had remained unchanged.

_Unchanged. Exactly the same as on the day when…_

Ukitake had looked at Lilinette in the exact same way as he had three centuries before – just before his zanpakutoh had slid through her flesh.

Just before he'd judged her, and put her _here._

'Apache, after you're done…' Stark whispered, his glance seeking and finding Ukitake's. 'Keep Lilinette away from me until my fight's…'

The dark-haired young woman glanced at him with open hatred, her upper lip curled in supreme disgust.

'She can't come near me, for this one fight, Apache…' he pleaded, not looking her way.

Then, with slow, pointed gestures which showed she understood his feelings though she could not possibly have grasped their cause, Halibel's Fraccion nodded.

'Don't worry,' Apache hissed – had her voice been acid, it would have washed Stark's flesh from his bones – in spite of it though, the Primera knew that she'd keep her word. 'Don't worry, you triple faced motherfucker,' Apache continued. 'I'll look out for your loved ones more than you fucking did for mine.'

* * *

Tesla's one eyelid fluttered, then opened painstakingly; he winced at the strong light that surrounded him from all sides, and tiredly closed his eye again.

The injury had been far more serious than Isane had previously thought, and Inoue Orihime's help was most welcome – her powers worked faster and were less draining on the target. Perhaps, Isane thought, reassuring Orihime, who looked quite disappointed at the fact that Tesla had not woken up fully, with a smile and a pat on the shoulder, she could also restore the young Arrancar's left eye.

After having made sure that there was no material change in Tesla's condition, and that there was nothing she could assist with, Isane returned to Nemu's side, by the panels. As soon as the lieutenant of the fourth division left her, Orihime's faint smile had disappeared completely, and she'd returned her dreamy glance to Tesla.

With a little sigh, she had let the healing shield disappear as well, and folded her hands in her lap, so absorbed in her thoughts that she only noticed Neliel after the Arrancar had sat down by her side. Orihime frowned a little, while an undecided smile spread on the other woman's features.

'Hey, Nel-san,' the red-head said, in a small voice. The salute had sounded more like a question.

'Hey,' Neliel replied, on the same indecisive tone. She bit her lower lip, not knowing how to continue; she hadn't missed the fact that Orihime and Ichigo had barely looked each other's way since they had walked in, and the fact gave her an odd, ambivalent feeling – a little bit of concern, combined with a little bit of _hope_, maybe…

How silly, the Arrancar thought.

'How is he?' she asked, looking towards Tesla.

'Oh, he's OK,' Orihime rushed to assure, in a tone that said she was pleased to be on familiar territory. 'He's really tired; he got hurt very badly twice in a row now…but other than that, he should be OK in a bit…'

Neliel nodded and smiled.

'It's really nice of you to do this, Orihime,' she said, softly. 'I mean, after all the things he did to Ichigo…'

'Oh, no, that's OK too. There's a fight, they gotta, uhm…fight, I guess,' Orihime responded, with a simple shrug. 'And it wasn't really his fault, either. Nnoitra told him to…kill Ichigo,' she brought herself to say, 'he had no choice, really.'

She paused for a moment.

'It's only that…'

'…he seemed to enjoy it so much.' Neliel finished for her, and Orihime nodded, grateful for the fact that the other had spoken the phrase she could not quite bring herself to articulate.

Neliel smiled.

'But, you're not angry with him either,' Orihime suddenly observed, making the Arrancar frown.

'Why would I be?' Nel shrugged.

'Well, for the stuff that happened, you know…'

'Nah,' the Arrancar giggled, leaning back on her arms and crossing her long bare legs. 'Tesla wasn't Nnoitra's Fraccion back then. In fact, he always tried to keep Nnoitra off me, or at least protested when Nnoitra jumped me. He was, I think,' the former Tercera said, with a small frown, as if the memory had just returned to her, 'he was the only one who did.'

Orihime looked up, with great curiosity.

'Nobody else?' she asked.

Neliel shook her head.

'I didn't think I'd need anyone else at the time,' she answered. 'I always was stronger than Nnoitra. Of course, I didn't expect…'

Her eyes narrowed and darkened as she glanced about, looking as if she had hated every screen, button and panel in the Octava's laboratory as much as she hated their maker.

'It wasn't Tesla's fault,' she reiterated. 'And you're right, Ichigo wasn't his fault either. Even though Tesla was the only one that tried to stop Nnoitra, he didn't do it because he liked me. He always did it because he liked Nnoitra.'

'Huh?' Orihime perked, ready to protest.

'Well, yes,' Neliel laughed. 'I think it was always because he thought Nnoitra hurt himself when he shouldn't have, and because there were five seats in between himself and me; he could have easily gone for a lower Espada, and trained himself up gradually, not jumping over five steps. But then,' Nel shrugged, 'it's maybe that if Nnoitra hadn't gone for me, Tesla wouldn't have liked him half as much.'

The human girl looked hopelessly confused; all trace of silly, unexplainable jealousy gone from her mind, Neliel smiled wide.

'Tesla always admired Nnoitra's strength. And courage,' she added, as an afterthought.

'Well,' Orihime began, questioningly, 'Nnoitra didn't strike me as brave…He was sort of, well, coo-coo.'

'He was that, too,' Neliel agreed. 'That's why I didn't kill him,' she added, softly. 'Because I too thought he was…'

She looked up to the human girl, with a mischievous glitter in her eyes.

'…coo-coo.' She finished, then looked down at her hands. 'But it's hard to say, Orihime-chan,' the Arrancar brought herself to say, 'whether in this world, trying to make yourself better or trying to get yourself killed is really being…coo-coo. In the end,' Nel continued, swallowing dry, 'I think even making yourself better is just another path to getting yourself killed.'

'How does that make anyone brave?' Orihime protested.

'How does lingering in Purgatory make anyone anything less than a coward?' Neliel answered, her wink only serving to emphasize the sadness in her voice.

The Arrancar scratched the back of her head.

'How do I explain?' she said. 'I think it would be hard for you…for any human,' she corrected, 'to grasp this. We're stuck here, and though this is not really hell, it's not heaven either. And, to be honest, I don't know if I would like to be stuck in heaven for all eternity, either.' She continued, casting a questioning glance to Isane's back. 'If I could have a choice, I'd like to be human again.'

'But you're very human,' Orihime sincerely protested; Neliel laughed.

'No, Orihime-chan,' she said, in a cheery voice that somehow managed to express bitter sorrow. 'No, I'm not.'

_Both Stark and Grimmjow keep reminding me of that, and I keep trying to forget it, but..._

'We're stuck,' the Arrancar reiterated. 'I think it's because at some point or another in our human lives, we were stuck too, unable to decide between the right thing and the wrong thing…'

'But the fact that you're here doesn't necessarily mean that you made the wrong choices!' Orihime burst, with far more passion than the sentence seemed to warrant; Neliel frowned questioningly, but the human girl looked away, blushing, as if ashamed of her outburst, and the Arrancar chose not to press.

'No,' Nel admitted. 'Or well, I don't know,' she shrugged. 'Maybe it doesn't. In any event, all of us long to be human again, whether openly, like myself, or in the most obscure manner or seeking humanity that's available. Like say, Nnoitra. The difference between me and him, I think, was the fact that I thought humanity rested in feelings and reason, no matter what one's circumstances were – or, like he always put it, I was too afraid of death to think otherwise, so rather than accept this cycle, _our_ cycle, I thought I could grow to be human by feeling a lot and reasoning a lot.'

'Yes, but that's the way that all humans are,' Orihime said.

'Maybe, but you again forget that we're not really human,' Nel responded. 'You see, Orihime-chan, it's very nice to think that feelings humanize; that all that's necessary to be human is to love or suffer or have a sense of fairness…whatever. But, maybe, just maybe, this is not true for Hueco Mundo,' Nel said, kindly. 'Maybe the only way out of Hueco Mundo and back into the cycle is death, and if this is true, then Nnoitra was far less coo-coo than we thought him to be.'

'Still, Nel-san,' the human girl muttered. 'He didn't simply try to get himself killed, he also tried to make himself stronger…'

'That's equally suicidal,' the Arrancar answered, with a grin.

Orihime's features showed she could not have disagreed more; amused by the human's silent protest, Neliel stuck the tip of her tongue out between her teeth.

'What happens with Hollows,' she explained, 'is that they lump together and become Gillian; Gillian eat each other and grow to Adjuchas, and Adjuchas eat each other to stay alive and conscious. But for most Adjuchas, the end of the line is a Vasto Lorde. Not becoming one, mind you,' she said, gravely, 'but being eaten by one.'

The human shuddered, yet Neliel Tu was not deterred.

'Now,' she continued, 'I wasn't a Vasto Lorde. Neither was Grimmjow; but, as far as I know, Vasto Lorde tend to be quite picky with their diet. They don't hunt around eating things at random, they always go for the creature with the most reiatsu around, and get the most with the least expenditure of energy. So, in the end, if you will, the most dangerous place one can be in terms of evolution is where I think Grimmjow was, just before Aizen appeared – close to Vasto Lorde, but not _quite_ there.'

'How so?'

'Well, you've got enough reiatsu to be noticed, but not nearly enough to defend yourself,' Neliel responded. 'That makes for a very short lunch hour…'

'Didn't Aizen change all that?' Orihime breathed. 'When he came with the Hougyoku? When he made you human?'

The former Tercera looked away, clearly struggling with the question.

'He didn't make us human,' she responded at length. 'He said he would, but I don't think he can. He simply did away with the masks, but the instincts remained. So, however you like to see it, the end of the lines for Arrancar who make themselves stronger, then even stronger still, would still be a Vasto Lorde. Wouldn't even matter if they got eaten or just simply killed. The Vasto Lorde are too old, and too accustomed to their supremacy to tolerate upstarts. The end of the line, the end of all lines, would still be a Vasto Lorde,' Nel whispered. 'The likes of Stark,' she said, her breath hitching a little. 'The likes of Ulquiorra. Things too old and too out of touch with their humanity…'

'Ulquiorra wasn't like that…' Orihime burst out, making Neliel look up in surprise. 'He wasn't,' the human girl repeated, stubbornly.

'Listen, Orihime…'Neliel began, unsure of what she had said to bring the sudden change in the human's demeanor on, but equally eager to calm it. 'Ulquiorra was…'

'No,' Orihime repeated. 'No. Ulquiorra had friends, who liked him and who liked him back.'

'Seriously?' Neliel asked, her wide open eyes letting Orihime know that the question had not been intended in an ironic way. 'Who?'

'Yammy…' Orihime began, pressing her lips together, as if attempting to push the argument through by sheer force of resolve.

'Yammy was his Fraccion,' Neliel answered, in the way of a contradiction.

'So what?' the human retorted. 'You just said that Tesla liked Nnoitra – and, and,' she continued, swallowing and clenching her little fist, 'Nnoitra liked Tesla too; just when Kenpachi came, he tried to warn Tesla to get away…'

'That's kinddof the point,' the Arrancar said. 'Espada and Fracciones are linked to each other; most Espada treasure their Fracciones…'

'Yes, but Yammy was no longer Ulquiorra's Fraccion. He hadn't been Ulquiorra's Fraccion for a very long time, and Ulquiorra still looked out for him!'

Neliel opened her mouth but could not get a word in.

'Just like, in the end, he looked out for me,' Orihime continued. 'I don't know what Aizen wanted him to do to me, but the fact is he didn't do it, whatever it was; the one moment he looked away and _really_ left me alone, I got hurt. I can't even imagine what would have happened to me if he hadn't been watching, and if I were left in the hands of Nnoitra or Loly and Menoly…And then, when Grimmjow got me, he didn't hesitate a second to come for me, without even telling Aizen…and then Aizen was angry at him, and…'

'Orihime-chan,' Neliel whispered.

'And sent Stark for him,' Orihime finished, in a barely audible tone. 'To punish him for all not telling him he was coming for me…as well as for all the other things…he didn't tell,' she whispered.

'Is that what you think?' Nel asked, not knowing whether she should have tried to contradict.

'Why else?' Orihime responded, swallowing dry. 'Why else would Aizen have let Ulquiorra die like…that, if he hadn't been really angry and decided that if he couldn't make me use phenomenon rejection for Aizen's purposes, then Ulquiorra was useless…because he didn't…'

Neliel frowned, as the other girl bit her lower lip and remained silent.

'You cannot blame yourself for that,' the Arrancar said, kindly. 'No one knows why Aizen makes the choices he makes; I hadn't offended him in any way when he let Nnoitra and Szayel Aporro go through with their plan. Really,' she confirmed, when Orihime questioningly looked up. 'He had no reason to think I was useless, but he did.'

_Still would not be able to guess why, _she thought, her glance slipping to the side. _Still wouldn't be able to guess why we were all…so useless._

'In any event,' she continued, after a second of silence, 'if there's anything I can promise, is that you should not blame yourself. Stark didn't go for Ulquiorra because of you, and Aizen didn't send him. There was a lot of history between those two, from the time that Ulquiorra evolved to Vasto Lorde; that was two hundred years ago, and I don't know all of it either. I could tell you what I do know sometime,' Neliel smiled, 'but I don't think now's a good time. In any event, you should not blame yourself. The only way in which Aizen could have made sure that Stark didn't kill Ulquiorra is if he had sent him to do it.'

'How can you know?' Orihime sighed.

'Because I know Stark,' Neliel answered, kindly; she smiled. 'I know him about just as much as you knew Ulquiorra. I too thought I was in love with him, once.'

The red-haired girl's breath caught a little; she didn't look up from her lap, though, until Nel's folded fingers gently brought her chin up and forced their gazes to cross.

'Which was,' Neliel continued, 'before I understood he could never love me back. That his capacity for it was either limited or simply gone…'

'That's not true,' Orihime whispered, not speaking of Stark. 'It's not true. He wasn't a monster; in all of the time that I knew him, he never killed or, or…_ate_ anyone, or at least not…'

'Ulquiorra Schiffer was two hundred years old,' Neliel reminded.

'Not even Ichigo!' Orihime continued, as if she hadn't heard the Arrancar. 'Although he could have, he didn't…He wasn't a monster.'

'I didn't say he was,' Nel nodded. 'But he'd learned to live with himself in a different way than the rest; all Vasto Lorde have, Orihime-chan. They may look different on the outside, and they manifest differently, too, but the emptiness inside is the same. None of them would have survived to be this old in this place, if they hadn't…'

'None of you would be monsters, if you didn't choose to,' the human whispered. 'And even if you did make the choice, once, there's no reason why you couldn't un-make it – not as long as you have people around you who don't give up on you…'

Nel's arm folded, and her fingers slipped away from Orihime's chin.

'Like I gave up on Stark, you mean,' she said.

'Like I wouldn't have given up on Ulquiorra,' Orihime said, simply. Free of Nel's fingers, her chin fell back to her chest, and both girls stayed silent for a few seconds.

'When we first met,' Nel began, 'I thought you liked Ichigo.'

Orihime's hands trembled slightly.

'I did,' she responded. 'I mean, I do…' She desperately shook her head. 'I don't know,' she whispered. 'I don't know.'

Neliel smiled.

'Orihime-chan,' she said, in such a hushed tone that the human girl looked up. 'May I say something?'

'Sure,' Orihime nodded, sniffling a little, then wiping her nose with the back of her sleeve and trying to smile.

'I know that you're hurting a lot right now,' the Arrancar said. 'And it's OK,' she smiled. 'But you'll heal in time, and you'll see that…'

She swallowed dry, making herself ready to utter words she didn't want to hear or think either.

'No amount of love can make any of us human again,' Nel said, not looking at Orihime, but at Ichigo's shadow, which stretched outside the door of the laboratory. 'In the end, it is better like this.'

'How can you say that,' Orihime protested, but Neliel waved her words away.

'And maybe you should try to not hate Stark too much,' she added softly.

'I don't,' Orihime whispered. 'I don't, but I…'

'And you shouldn't.' Nel whispered. 'Because in the end he did you a favor, Orihime-chan.'

The human winced.

'He did you a favor,' the Arrancar repeated. 'Because, if either Ichigo or Ulquiorra had killed the other, you might have lost them both.'

For a second, Orihime looked as if she'd been about to burst into tears; she didn't, but she brought her knees to her chest, and buried her forehead on top of them, shutting the whole world out.

Nel stood as quietly as she could, then headed away, leaving the human to her thoughts, but taking Orihime's words with her.

None of us have to be monsters, Nel thought. Not unless we choose to.

_Like some of us do._

The words had lashed out from the back of her mind as the sound of Szayel's voice, which she had all but managed to block, resounded from the speakers. She shook her head, not wanting to think of him; his choices were clear.

She looked to Ichigo's shadow, and smiled, then lowered her glance to the floor.

Some things one had to give up on, she thought, surprised at the odd serenity that she suddenly felt. But others, she did not, and, Neliel Tu thought, nodding to herself, Orihime was right; all choices, even Stark's choices, could be unmade. If only people who cared about them didn't give up.

And Nel knew she had not yet given up. Furthermore, she knew that she would not.

'Yes!' Ishida triumphantly exclaimed, jerking Nel from her thoughts.

On the screen before the Quincy, blinking lights had replaced obscurity.

She wouldn't give up until the very, very end.

* * *

Up next - Don't worry, Byakushi will get himself in trouble...soon.


	61. Double Bluff

Good evening for the last time this year :) It's been an exciting 2008, I hope, and I thank all of you guys for your kindness :) Your attention has made my day, every day, and I do hope that you have enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it :)

Here's to a bigger, better, faster, stronger 2009 for all of us - have a great New Year Eve, drink responsibly, and don't do anything Szayel wouldn't do. (That includes attempting to fix anyone's Nintendo Wii :P)

Chapter 61 - Where Byakushi has not yet gotten himself in trouble...Or at least, not *that* kind.

* * *

Ishida pushed his glasses upwards on his nose, and leaned forward.

'I don't understand,' he finally admitted, smirking at Szayel's overly satisfied huff. 'I've plotted the entire power grid, and I see no sign of a generator strong enough to power the machines that keep the Garganta sealed…'

'It is elementary, my dear Watson,' Szayel muttered – the image before them shook slightly, indicating the fact that he had adjusted his glasses in his turn. 'If the generators that sustain the cross-world impeding devices had been on the main power grid, the destruction of the central generator would have disabled them as well. Thus, by the fact that the Garganta continued to remain sealed even though this room was offline leads me to two conclusions – firstly, that the generators that power the travel impeding devices must be independent of this chamber, and secondly, that you are quite dense and benefit solely from temporary flashes of mental illumination.'

'Watson?' Isane queried before Ishida could protest in any way.

'Watson, John Hamish. Fictional character created by Arthur Conan Doyle; assistant and biographer to detective Sherlock Holmes…'Nemu dutifully began explaining.

'In other words, benevolent but somewhat slow assistant to true genius,' Szayel purred, in an obviously pleased voice.

'Well, true genius,' Ishida sneered, 'you are not making any progress on the issue…'

'That is because I am not focusing on that particular issue for the moment, Quincy,' Szayel scolded. 'I am prioritizing – as one always should, I might add.'

'And what are you focusing on, pray tell?' Ishida muttered. 'All you've done since we managed to restore power to some of the panels is tinker with the wiring under the control boards and divert more and more power towards the chamber…'

'Not towards it,' Nemu dryly corrected. 'Through it.'

'Is there a difference?' Isane timidly asked.

'Of course,' Nemu and Szayel responded, in a single voice.

'Yes,' the Quincy stingily said, 'there is a difference. In this way, he'll be able to turn more of the panels on and play with them to his heart's content. Which could be regarded as admirable intellectual curiosity, but is, in fact, quite stupid, under the circumstances.'

'I could take offense,' Szayel responded, in a remarkably kind voice, 'but I have long made peace with the fact that I am well beyond the understanding of simple humans. Alright,' he added, after a deeply pained theatrical sigh. 'Here it is.'

He looked down at the board before him, allowing Nemu and Ishida to see what he saw – a dark and perfectly smooth ceramic plate, criss-crossed by a disorderly mass of red lines, which shimmered somewhere within the board. Although on first glance the lines appeared disorderly, a few further seconds of inspection made Ishida realize that they did have an odd pattern – a thick hexagonal outline, where the lines swirled about each other so much that they seemed to meld into each other, with a mist of thin rays stretching towards an equally concentrated center.

Ishida frowned.

'Is that the Hougyaku chamber?' he asked.

'Top down view,' Szayel confirmed, with a slight nod. He stretched his fingers over the ceramic plate, without touching it – oddly enough, the first thought that crossed Ishida's mind as the image smoothly slid to the side, following the motion of the Arrancar's hand, was of the look of Szayel's hands when he did not wear his gloves. Part of it was how small the Arrancar's hands looked – perhaps a quarter of the size of his hands in released form – and, by contrast, his actual hands looked tiny. Although they were not, Ishida realized, as he watched the Octava's fingers shape and turn the image on the ceramic plate, and enlarge each of the sections in turn. By the sharp, purple claws that the Octava had in his true form, the archer would have expected at least long nails, yet, though his nails were rounded and cleanly cut and obviously polished, and his fingers did carry a certain amount of unnatural grace, Szayel's hands looked surprisingly…normal, and, in spite of their obvious frailty, even oddly masculine. Like the hands of a young teenager, Ishida thought. The Quincy had suspected that the Arrancar kept his gloves on at all times to hide yet another eccentricity, and thus, its absence made him feel more disconcerted than any extravagant nail polish might have.

_This man is anything but what he seems_, the Quincy thought.

'It's a maze,' he whispered, not knowing whether he was thinking of the Arrancar or the chaotically entangled mass of red lines on the screen.

'It is not,' Szayel refuted. 'There are quite a few symmetry axes, vertical as well as horizontal. The number of terminations is also even…'

'Hm?' Ishida frowned. 'Switches?'

'Arches,' Szayel corrected. 'The switch would be the thing that closes the arch. How do you propose we proceed?'

The overly merry tone of the question let Ishida know that Szayel had an answer on hand; nonetheless, he frowned with concentration, uneager to step down from the challenge.

'Is the control panel inaccessible?' he asked.

A quick glance to the side, to the completely smashed board where Wonderweiss had repeatedly tried his sword, was a sufficient answer. Ishida sighed.

'But all the terminations are still live,' the archer observed. 'Whatever power source is feeding the traps, it is still active. Can we not simply take it offline?'

'If we could see it, we could,' Nemu nodded. 'But we cannot. This,' she continued, pointing at the screen, 'is a status monitor. It only shows the condition of the chamber itself.'

'Yet the power must come from somewhere,' Ishida muttered.

'Exactly,' Szayel Aporro purred. 'And wherever that somewhere is, it will be connected to that control panel. Which,' he continued, with tremendous satisfaction, 'is why the subtle difference between _towards_ and _through _becomes important, Ishida-kun.'

'What do you intend to do?' Ishida frowned.

'Quite simply,' the Arrancar snickered, 'kill the hamster. Are we ready, Nemu-chan?'

'If your re-wiring is correct,' she dryly answered, 'yes, we are.'

'Excellent!' Szayel Aporro exclaimed, clapping his hands with theatrical glee. 'Shall we?'

Nemu began clicking too rapidly for Ishida to follow; to the archer's surprise, one after the other of the nodes of the power grid he had plotted blinked in protest, before vanishing off the status monitor.

'What are you doing?' Ishida asked.

'Interrupting power transfers through all other known functional nodes,' Nemu answered, looking at him in slight confusion. 'Because…' she began, then stopped, her eyes growing dull as she searched for an expression that would please him – 'we don't want to kill _all_ the hamsters.'

'Just the correct one,' Szayel Aporro agreed, drawing Ishida's attention to the other monitor.

The Arrancar had moved, and he was no longer looking at the rendition of the Hougyoku chamber. In exchange, he'd leaned over a piece of circuitry that was barely recognizable as the remains of his circular sensor, adorned with bits and pieces that had thus far lain scattered about the room. A tidily tied bunch of wires – which made Ishida wonder why Szayel Aporro had an uncontrollable compulsion of making anything he touched pointlessly aesthetic – were neatly terminated by an adapter and attached to one entrance of the board; a single wire snaked away from the other side, and disappeared somewhere in the mound of torn boards that had once been the Hougyoku chamber control panel.

'You're planning to create a power surge and burn everything out!' Ishida exclaimed, so pleased with his realization that he didn't care his obvious excitement made Szayel Aporro snicker maliciously, and even caused Nemu to crack a smile that was intended to look ironic.

'Well, well, slowly but surely, you're following,' the Arrancar said. 'I'll admit the method has all the subtlety of a sledgehammer, but…one cannot always be delicate.'

A rounded multi-positional switch was turned, with a dry click, and, Ishida assumed, whatever isolation device had kept the two entrances of Szayel's circuit from contact was removed. The archer didn't get time to take a closer look at the board – the Octava hastily stood, making the image on the monitor become blurry, and once again turned his focus to the dark ceramic board. As if by magic, the delicate lines within the board began glowing brighter, growing towards incandescence, and reminding Ishida of capillary blood vessels that were about to burst. For a moment, the entire elaborate design, with its myriad of thin lines, looked like a single solid hexagon.

The Arrancar worriedly glanced down at his machine, and it was not hard for Ishida to intuit that Szayel was wondering whether his makeshift transformer would give in before the terminations in the Hougyouku chamber did.

'Apologies,' Nemu said, dryly.

'What for?' Szayel distractedly queried in return.

The Shinigami's fingers pressed the power level controls upwards – in a sudden fit of enlightenment, Ishida yanked the earphone out of his ear and prepared for the aftermath; the very next second proved him right. The ceramic board grew far too bright to look upon, so bright that it radiated painful, red rays all around, before the entire image suddenly became dark. The disappearance of the light was immediately followed by the loud but dull sound of the transformer meeting its predictable and painful demise, and by Szayel's equally predictable loud shriek, which clearly indicated the Arrancar perceived the destruction of his sensor as if it had been a stab to the stomach.

'Nononononono…' the Octava pointlessly whined; despite the fact that he could sense the sheer, genuine pain in the other's voice, Ishida lowered his head and snickered.

'Apologies,' Nemu repeated. 'Captain Kuchiki,' she continued, flicking to the main communications channel, 'we are pleased to inform that all devices in the Hougyoku chamber have been rendered non-functional.'

Judging by the fact that Szayel Aporro had covered his eyes – and therefore, the camera – with his hands and continued to whimper helplessly, the success did not bring him any sort of consolation.

* * *

It was often said that fortune favored the brave.

Though normally, Szayel Aporro had little use for other's wisdom, the appearance of the two glowing dots on the edges of Ichimaru Gin's reiatsu detector made even him admit that sometimes such sayings were based on coincidences that might have resembled truth.

He had, of course, noticed that Kuchiki Byakuya and Unohana Retsu had dropped out of communication as soon as they had headed for the Hougyoku chamber. Neither of the two understood much of his talks with Nemu and Ishida, and Kuchiki at least would have been severely put off by his loud protests regarding the reckless manner in which Nemu had tretaeted his makeshift transformer.

Neither Unohana nor Kuchiki had spoken a single word on the main communications channel; it was just as well. Within a few minutes of them leaving the control chamber, their communication devices had well and truly gone out of range, and the two could not have said anything, even if they'd tried.

Which, of course, had been what Szayel Aporro had counted on from the very beginning.

The eighth tower was placed on the outermost edges of Las Noches, on the same ring as the tenth, ninth and seven towers. The positioning had always bothered the Octava; not only because of the considerable distance that lied between his tower and the city core, and which had, at certain points, made him feel slightly _unloved_, but because the numerous tall towers that lay between his domain and the central buildings of Las Noches had the annoying capacity of interfering with conventional radio communication signals. He'd first become aware of the problem in the time when his reiatsu sensor network was not yet fully operational, and did not yet stretch beyond the fourth tower – placing sensors on the third tower had proved quite difficult, with numerous losses of radio contact and quite a few other technical glitches caused by the massive sekki stone and iron structure of the Cuarta's tower, which rose between Szayel's domain and his intended target. He had worked out the reiatsu sensor glitches easily enough, by making sure that he had sufficient devices within a given range – the tight network of miniature readers would suitably amplify each of its components and make sure the readings reached the base; in case of need, the reiatsu sensors could also function as miniature antennae on a small radius. Once that particular problem had been fixed, he had not truly expanded any attention to the fact that radio communications between the eighth tower and the city core, where he had not dared place sensors, were impossible without the aid of more powerful and especially, more visible transmitters. Attempting to obtain permission for placing relay stations around Las Noches would only have drawn unnecessary attention to his other deployed machinery, and, in a world where the Gods relied on kidou spells and finger wobbling rather than proper technology to make themselves heard, he could never have passed radio transmitters for anything generally useful.

Thus, since the very start, Szayel had known that once any member of the expedition ventured past the first tower, leaving the Arrancar sections and passing into the proper _court_, they would drop out of radio communications with the eighth tower and the rest of the group. His original intention, before he had been caught picking up Byakuya's bankai and earned Renji's unwanted and complete attention, had been to inform Ishida and Nemu of that particular shortcoming of the system. Now, however, he had figured the known weakness would be sufficient to scare the vice-captain of the sixth into following his captain at the opportune moment. The only things Szayel would have to do would be to appear sufficiently panicked once the two captains went out of range. Since Abarai was not the brightest star on the firmament of the group, Ishida obviously knew much about programming, but close to nothing about electronics, and Nemu had not truly had a chance of surveying the sensor network, Szayel had figured the trick would buy him at least ten minutes respite from Renji's watchful eye. No matter how fast one's Shumpo was, reaching the Hougyoku chamber would take at least that long, while Szayel's own target, the first tower, was less than half the distance away. As an added boon, Szayel's own transmitter also relayed positioning information about all the other transmitters. All he'd have to do to make sure no one noticed his movements would be to watch for when Renji re-entered the communication range and return.

Now, however, it looked as if he would not even have to hurry.

He'd caught a glimpse of the two dots through the corner of his eye as soon as Nemu had returned all nodes to their functional state, but had had sufficient self restraint to not turn is head and look straight on at the monitor. He had kept his gaze – as well as the camera that was attached to the side of his glasses – locked on to panels before him, giving no sign that he was interested in anything else than the location of the power generators that sustained the cross-world travel impeding devices.

Unlike his own reiatsu detectors, Ichimaru Gin's seemed quite primitive – the two presences it picked up were perfectly neutral from a size and color point of view, a clear sign of the fact that the machine could only detect, but not positively identify the individuals in question. Nonetheless, it was not hard to guess who they were, and, taking advantage of the fact that Renji was behind him and could not truly see his features, Szayel allowed himself a small triumphant grin. It was, indeed, perfect, the Octava thought. He could not have planned it better himself.

Keeping his chin straight, Szayel looked down, squinting a little; he waved his hand over the ceramic board that had previously shown the status of the power grid in the Hougyoku chamber, praying that Gin had at least managed to put one stolen device to good use – and this time, Ichimaru Gin did not disappoint. But a few images later, a map of the corridors came into view; the Octava tapped shortly and quietly on the edge of the board, selecting the display mode, then patiently flicked towards the position of the two presences.

The rounded tip of his left index's nail lingered atop a corridor intersection – then, as the Arrancar's right hand pointed to something on the screen before the camera, his left hand dragged the intersection upwards, along the corridor the two dots were following. With the grace and dexterity of a piano player, Szayel bloched all possible paths leading away from the main direction of the corridor, then, as a painter putting the final brush stroke on his masterpiece, he reshaped the corridor itself, dragging it across many other lines and finally connecting it to the wide rectangle at the center of the city. The rectangle which, Szayel Aporro well knew, represented the antechamber of the Hougyoku room.

He allowed a few seconds to pass.

'Hm,' he said, leaning closer to the boards, and half turning towards the reiatsu detector screen. 'I thought I saw something move.'

Everything after that was child's play; a mare dance on the palm of the Octava's hand.

Ishida's exceptional eyesight picked up the two dots within half a second; within another minute, it was quickly established that Unohana and Kuchiki were not contactable and thus could not be warned of the two approaching enemies. Assurances that the more powerful Arrancar had certainly left the city and that the two presences could not possibly be a challenge to the two captains fell on deaf ears – if anything, the more Szayel repeated the fact that Unohana and Kuchiki could be left to handle themselves, the less Renji believed it and the more eager to follow his captain he grew. In the end, after two minutes of arguing, Szayel threw his hands in the air, surrendering.

'Fine,' he huffed in a deeply offended tone. 'Go after them and make a fool of yourself - see if I care…But could you at least wait until we establish what is wrong with the communications devices? They should be fully functional all over Las Noches...'

'I think it's clear what's wrong with the communication devices,' Renji answered impatiently. 'Whomever those two are, they must have done something to break them!'

This time, sounding offended did not even require any acting talent. The mere thought that Loly and Menoly, who were, besides Yammy and Wonderweiss, the most useless creatures in the whole of Las Noches, and the only other two for which Aizen would have found no use in the real world, could have done anything to any of Szayel's devices aggravated the Octava in earnest.

'That is an absolutely ridiculous supposition!' he shrieked, pressing his little hand on the center of his chest.

Exactly as Szayel Aporro had predicted, Renji did not wait around to hear the end of the pronouncement.

* * *

'What now?' Ishida asked, softly.

The tension in Szayel Aporro's laboratory felt so thick that the Quincy fancied it had the smell of burned electrical isolation; Rukia, Neliel, Isane and Orihime had approached the panels and were exchanging exceedingly worried glances.

'Should we tell Ichigo…' Orihime slowly began.

'Dear child,' Szayel Aporro's voice scolded from the speakers, 'I find all of you are quite exalted. If one of you rushes head first into a certain direction, all of you have the disturbing tendency of following, like sheep. The paragon holds even more true if the first person to mindlessly head off the Gods know where is vice-captain Abarai. I assure you,' Szayel purred, 'there is no reason to be concerned.'

'How can you know, Szayel Aporro?' Neliel Tu muttered. 'You said yourself that Gin's machines cannot tell us who the two intruders are, but that they must certainly be larger than Exequias…'

'Precisely, Neliel Tu,' Szayel Aporro approved, on a less condescending tone. 'Let us then think it through – who would Aizen leave behind that is larger than an Exequias, but cannot possibly be useful in combat?'

'I have no idea.' Nel stubbornly replied.

'Of course you do,' the Octava continued. 'Said creatures would have to rank among the weakest of the Numeros, and could not even serve as cannon fodder. Nonetheless, if Aizen has made such a precise judgment of their level of strength, he, or somebody else must know them well. They are, therefore, not some random Numeros that God forgot; they must be…'

'…somebody's Fracciones,' Neliel ended for him.

'Precisely,' Szayel nodded. 'And now, let us knot the information together – which Fracciones do we know that are barely stronger than Exequias, would gravitate around the Hougyoku chamber and always travel in pairs?'

'Oh for the love of God,' the former Tercera sighed, her shoulders slumping at the realization; nonetheless, it was Orihime who spoke first.

'Loly and Menoly?' she asked, in a small voice.

'Et voila!' Szayel exclaimed in triumph.

'Why could you not have said that from the beginning, Szayel Aporro?' Neliel asked, with a menacing frown.

'It wasn't for lack of trying,' Ishida muttered; in the control chamber, the Octava grinned triumphantly. 'He kept saying there is nothing to be concerned about.'

'I am the victim of a cruel fate,' Szayel whinged.

'Yes, Szayel Aporro,' Neliel impatiently hissed. 'That's because you never say what you believe, nor do you ever believe what you say – and if sometimes you do happen to tell the truth, it is hidden among so many lies that no one can find it…'

'Most excellent!' the Octava exclaimed. 'Machiavelli! Truly, Neliel Tu, your time with Stark was not entirely wasted!'

The former Tercera frowned – at the barb, as well as at the fact that Szayel's words must have been accompanied by some sort of truly extravagant hand gesture. The camera that had thus far been attached to the side of his mask fell to the ground, landing on the objective, which immediately shattered.

The monitor they had been staring at became pitch black; then, after a few flickers, simply displayed the words _Signal Lost_, in brightly green letters.

'Oops,' Szayel innocently purred. 'My excitement at my peers' intellectual achievements gets the better of me sometimes.'

'You did that on purpose!' Neliel exclaimed.

'Of course not,' the Octava retorted, in such a voice that the image of his inevitable pout floated before Ishida's eyes. 'I never do damage to my own machinery…Lumina!' he said, his suddenly dry and snappy voice jolting the Fraccion to attention. 'Bring me another camera. You know where to find them, and you know where to find me.'

The Fraccion nodded sheepishly, then bounced towards one of the cupboards in the back of the chamber.

'Verona!' Szayel continued, in the same commanding voice. 'Take Medazepi and head for the Hougyoku antechamber – please try to gather as many pieces of Loly and Menoly as are left once captain Kuchiki's delightful Bankai…'

'Now wait a minute, Szayel Aporro,' Neliel Tu began, her voice expressing as much disgust and outrage as was clearly imprinted on all of the others' features. 'You don't expect to conduct any of your despicable…'

Ishida spun his chair around, and grabbed the Tercera's arm before the female Arrancar could finish the phrase – the expression in his narrowed eyes, as well as the fact that he had pressed his finger to his lips, signaling for her to keep quiet made her stop short.

'It's none of our business what Szayel Aporro chooses to do with his time after we're done with Aizen,' the Quincy said, in a remarkably reproachful tone of voice. Frowning furiously, Orihime and Isane opened their mouths to protest, yet, in striking contrast to the cold tone of Ishida's voice, the pleading expression on the boy's features, as well as the fact that he had raised his pals, bidding them to wait, kept them both quiet. 'If I may make a small suggestion, though, Szayel Aporro, it would perhaps be for the best if Lumina took Grimmjow with her; I'd really like both her and the camera to reach you in one piece, not to mention as fast as possible...'

There was a minute hesitation; to Ishida, whose heart had started beating at the base of his neck, the half second of silence seemed like an eternity.

'Good idea,' Szayel's voice cheerfully agreed, and, to the women's great surprise, Ishida covered his mouth to stifle a sigh of relief. 'He may bring Kurosaki Ichigo if he so wishes – I notice the two of them have become quite inseparable…' the Octava concluded, with an unpleasantly high snicker.

'Oh no, I think Ichigo should stay with us,' Orihime responded, her uncertain glance locked on to Ishida, who was nodding encouragingly. 'I hope you don't mind, Szayel Aporro, I tend to feel _so_ much safer when Ichigo is around…'

'Not at all,' the Octava responded, in a kind, obliging tone. 'Hop to it, Lumina!' he concluded, and this time, the Fraccion bounced out the laboratory door, following its companion, who'd vanished in the same direction but a few seconds before.

None of those left behind suspected Szayel was already kneeling before the tall doors of the first tower, smirking in disgust at the former Primera's gaudy sense of decoration and fiddling with the automatic lock.

In turn, the Octava did not suspect that once both of his Fracciones had left the chamber, Ishida had reached over the panels and cut the sound uplink.

The archer let out a heavy breath, then smiled gratefully at Orihime.

'Inoue-san,' he said, in a shaky voice, which clearly betrayed his nervousness. 'That was absolutely brilliant!'

Orihime blushed, but gave him a very pleased thumbs up-sign.

'What do you want to do?' Rukia inquired, frowning in confusion.

'Well, for the first part, get Lumina, Verona _and _Grimmjow out of the way,' Neliel answered; Ishida nodded in agreement.

'Yup,' he confirmed. 'I think you're right, Nel,' he added, swallowing dry. 'I think he did that on purpose. Though I have no idea why,' he concluded with a shrug.

'Most likely so that he can fiddle with the machines at his ease,' the female Arrancar smirked. 'Or so that he does whatever sinister thing he has in mind next.'

'Do you think Nii-sama and Renji are in danger?' Rukia asked.

'Not really, no,' the Quincy answered, hastily shaking his head. It was Neliel's turn to nod.

'Loly and Menoly are really nothing to be concerned about,' she reassuringly said. 'And while I don't trust Szayel Aporro at all, I think his logic in this case was truthful…'

'Nor does he have the time to do anything _big,_' Ishida added, in an uncertain tone of voice. 'He's got to be aware of the fact that Renji is a few minutes away at most and Kenpachi is roaming somewhere. Let's use the time to our advantage.'

'We should hurry,' Nemu mechanically reminded. 'Szayel Aporro Granz is bound to notice a prolonged silence.'

'True,' the Quincy nodded. 'Nemu-san, do you think you can keep him busy for a while? I need like – half an hour? I'm sure you can try to keep him focused on the Garganta.'

'Of course,' she responded.

'But what do you want to do?' Isane asked.

Ishida, who had stood away from the panels and taken a few steps towards the back of the laboratory, turned around and eyed her hesitantly.

'I'm not sure what exactly,' he admitted. 'But…'

With unusually tentative gestures, the archer scratched the back of his head.

'There is something odd in his demeanor,' Ishida said. 'He really is being unusually helpful and unusually patient. In fact, the fact that he's picked up captain Kuchiki's bankai is the only…I don't know…_in character_?' the Quincy helplessly shrugged, 'thing that he has done in a long while now.'

'You think he's trying to distract us,' Neliel helped.

'Not sure. More like he is trying to keep our attention focused on some things, and away from others.'

_Like the LED, for instance._

'And,' Ishida followed, slowly, 'while I don't get the feeling that he is preparing to double cross us, I do get the feeling that he's hiding something. Immediately after he did the bankai thing, and after Grimmjow made his stand, Szayel Aporro told me something…something I would rather not share, for the moment,' he said, preempting Neliel's question. 'Something that I didn't need to know,' the archer continued, 'and that was clearly intended to make me trust him.'

The boy frowned.

'He doesn't really _need _me to trust him,' he added, softly. 'Grimmjow basically stated that we should take things as they come, lest we start on a warpath; why then would Szayel Aporro bother with my trusting him?'

'What do you suspect?' Neliel asked.

'I really don't know,' Ishida rushed to respond, defensively raising his palms. 'It really may be nothing; Szayel Aporro certainly is weird enough. But if there is something, I'd be willing to bet my bow that it has something to do with the secondary set of panels. And I'm going to see exactly what they do.'

'You'd have to find them first,' Rukia shrugged.

'Oh,' Nemu responded in Ishida's stead; with great delight, the Quincy noted that this time, her smile actually looked genuine. 'That will not be a problem.'

* * *

'At least thirty years,' Kuchiki Byakuya uttered, indifferently.

Finding that now, as always, she admired her companion's composure, Unohana Retsu drew a deep breath and nodded in approval.

She'd understood exactly what he had meant to say, and the realization made her heart freeze; it was impossible that Sousuke Aizen had planned and built the monstrous mausoleum around them in the few months that had passed since his treachery had surfaced. The mere conception of Las Noches, its concentric rings, its towers, columns and domed ceilings, as well as the sheer size of the city clearly pointed to the fact that the betrayal had been prepared for decades before its actual enactment. Though the knowledge was not necessarily new, the concrete and irrefutable evidence of the fact that Aizen had managed to completely blind them for such an extended time made both captains tense, and filled their minds with unpleasant thoughts.

In tacit understanding with each other, both Kuchiki and Unohana had removed their earphones. Szayel Aporro's instructions on how to reach the Hougyoku chamber had been clear enough, and, five minutes of hearing the Arrancar complain on how the destruction of his modified sensor could only spell technological impairment with disastrous consequences, while Ishida and later, even Isane, chuckled uncontrollably and only increased the Arrancar's annoyance, had proven sufficient. Both captains were perfectly content to follow the majestic corridor in complete silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts, and perfectly comfortable with the other.

Byakuya's phrase had been the first words either of them had uttered in more than half an hour, but it had perfectly summarized both of their thought strings. Unohana nodded again, as if to herself.

'I cannot help but wonder,' she began, softly, 'what else besides this city he has been preparing.'

The man gave her an uncertain glance.

'Do you think there might be more to his power base than this palace?' he asked; the woman contented herself on a worried shrug.

'The only reason why anyone would build a gigantic garrison is if one intended to house a gigantic army,' Unohana responded.

'Yet, this place is as empty and quiet as a tomb. Some of these halls are constructed out of sekki stone, but most of them are not. Yet, we have not felt the most minute trace of reiatsu.' Byakuya followed. 'How many Arrancar could he have made in the past few months? And, perhaps more importantly, how many could he possibly have taken with him to the human world?'

'Apparently,' the woman shrugged, 'all of them.'

_Hundreds? Thousands?_

The two exchanged a glance, but the question remained unspoken.

'That is illogical,' the captain of the sixth spoke, after a few seconds of silence. 'If his statement of intentions was truthful, he's willingly lured us here. He knows who we are and how many we are – why would he leave the entirety of this complex unguarded?'

'It was not completely unguarded,' Unohana shrugged. 'The Hollows referred to as Exequias…'

The glance Byakuya shot to the side was openly ironic, and it made the woman sigh.

'…are absolutely pointless,' she admitted. 'Kenpachi is going through them like a hot knife through butter. And since Aizen indeed knew who we were, we can also assume he knew Kenpachi would make short work of anything that stood in his way.'

'Perhaps that is what drove him to completely empty Las Noches,' Byakuya said. 'If he knew he had no defenders capable of standing up to us with a decent chance of victory, he probably preferred to concentrate his forces in the human world, and achieve victory with all possible haste.'

'He cannot possibly hope he will manage to breach the Sereitei within hours,' Unohana said, yet, for all of her resolve, the statement had sounded oddly hopeful.

Byakuya took a few seconds before responding; just as Szayel Aporro had described, the tall corridor broke into a domed, gracious antechamber, which seemed to have been designed to house hundreds. Unlike all the ceilings and floors so far, which had been lined in simple, white marble, the ceiling and floor of the antechamber were covered in marble that gradually faded to deep black. The architectural trompe l' œil made the room look as if it had been far longer than it actually was, creating an odd tunnel effect. The carefully constructed darkness almost completely concealed the tall, wrought iron doors that lied straight across, in front of the corridor exit.

Though the room before them was completely empty, both Shinigami stopped and exchanged an uneasy glance. The air all around them was filled with an odd, barely perceptible vibration – not reiatsu, and certainly not the electrical hum that filled the control chamber and Szayel Aporro's laboratory. It was another form of energy, something that neither of them truly recognized, and that gave the chamber a strange, artificially neutral feel. Whatever the power source was, it was neither benevolent nor malevolent; nor was or mechanical in nature. On the contrary, it gave off a deeply disconcerting nuance of being _alive _and independent_. _It simply existed and vibrated, indifferent to the circumstances of the world around it.

But then, perhaps, Unohana thought, while the type of energy that filled the chamber was entirely new, the feeling that it instilled was not foreign at all – in fact it was terrifyingly easy to recognize.

Precisely the same kind of feeling, something that lingered in between irrational terror and equally irrational admiration, that one experienced whenever the Soukyoku, _the executioner of the grand penalty,_ achieved it final shape.

'It's here,' Unohana said, voicing both of their thoughts. 'It's here,' she repeated, as if she could scarcely bring herself to believe the truth that all of her senses conveyed. 'He truly left it behind. He left all of it,' she whispered, in utter incomprehension, 'behind.'

The realization was so heavy that both of them took half a second more than they should have to realize that they were not alone, and turn around.

* * *

Up next - If Szayel is generous, we may find out what the Hougyoku actually does. (I wouldn't hold out much hope for Loly and Menoly though...)


	62. Synesthesia

Good evening, all - apologies for yet again skipping on Byakushi, I had the evil inspiration bug this weekend :) Many, many thanks for reading and commenting over the party season! Hope all of y'all had a great, safe time, didn't kill too many brain cells and didn't get into bar fights. :D

I will confess I have a great itch to get serious; with the manga threatening to go on a ten chapter Ulquiorra vs Ichigo spree, and with a zillion plot bunnies running through my mind, I am less and less inclined to wait for the epic releases... So, without further a due...

_**Synesthesia** is a neurologically based phenomenon in which stimulation of one sensory or cognitive pathway leads to automatic, involuntary experiences in a second sensory or cognitive pathway. In its most common form, synesthesia causes __letters__ or __numbers__ to be perceived as inherently colored in a specific nuance._

Chapter 61 - Where I take a guess.

* * *

The insides of the first tower looked unsurprising, and Szayel Aporro was assured that, had he wasted any time in actually imagining what sort of environment Barragan had created for himself, he would have imagined precisely this.

A thick hide, stretched between four equally distanced rusty iron rings, hid the tall ceiling of the tower from view, and granted the room the appearance of a tent. More thick animal skins lined the floor, while tens of various weapons – daggers, swords, even scythes and hammers – hung on the wall opposite Barragan's gigantic throne.

Though the Octava was far less delicate than he made himself out to be, he had to admit that the sight of the decorations - which were, in a sense, as much a living part of their dead masters' organisms as the limbs Szayel collected - as well as the fact that they had clearly been positioned in such a way that Barragan could always keep them in sight, was disturbing. Just like everyone else in Las Noches, Szayel had heard countless tales of the fact that Barragan had a habit of preserving the weapons of the enemies he had consumed throughout his long life; he hadn't quite been able to believe them, given the annoying tendency for exaggeration that Barragan's lieutenants always displayed, yet…

Upon first glance, Szayel counted at least thirty such souvenirs. He did not care count further, but instinctively grasped Fornicares' scabbard, just below the hilt, as if he'd been attempting to reassure _her_.

He drew a deep breath.

But a few hours before, Szayel assumed, the chamber would have reeked of tens of different reiatsu; beyond collector's jealousy, for Szayel was also one who enjoyed living surrounded by the carefully collected remains of former enemies, another, far more important concern overrode them.

_If Barragan has consumed all of these, his reiatsu is beyond imagination huge. _

Then, there was a second, even more unpleasant part to the realization.

_And for however big Barragan, Stark is larger still._

It was a rare occasion that Szayel Aporro Granz actually felt small. Not insignificant, but quite literally, small; he only recalled having had the feeling when he had first stood in Aizen's crushing presence, but it had returned with a vengeance now. For this chamber, Barragan's long time lair, which was littered with Barragan's past and housed Barragan's ancient throne, did not smell of Barragan. Nor did it smell of his Fracciones, nor, Szayel realized, biting his lower lip, did it smell of the slowly decomposing reiatsu of his former enemies.

It simply smelled of Stark.

How long could Stark have spent in this room? Szayel wondered, taking a few steps forward and glancing about with narrowed eyes. No longer than minutes – he would not have had time to even take one of his famous naps. Still, his newly restored reiatsu permeated every object as surely as if the place had been Stark's own lair. No trace of Barragan was left.

It was not the fact that Stark had left such a strong imprint to reassure Szayel that his guess on the center of the labyrinth had been correct, however, but another, far more subtle flavor. Underneath the cold and humid traces of the new Primera's reiatsu, well hidden, but nonetheless present, there was another smell, something that the Octava could not immediately place. Nor could he bring himself to believe it, when he finally did.

_Ulquiorra._

The trace reiatsu was not pure. It was, in fact, Szayel understood, as he closed his eyes and focused on the source of the odd vibration, a reconstruction, a combination. Had he had any of his instruments on hand, he would have loved to assure himself of its frequency and pattern, because all of his instincts told him what he _felt_ was Stark's basic energy shaped into Ulquiorra's energy pattern, something he thought thoroughly impossible…

And yet…

Ulquiorra's reiatsu was not only undeniably present, but also undeniably focused; as the waves of Szayel's own reiatsu crept out, feeling the environment's energy, it became clear that the source of the vibration was a single point, something no larger than a pebble, radiating strongly from the direction of Barragan's throne.

Assured that whatever the object was, it would be have to be physical and thus, visible, Szayel Aporro ceased the reiatsu search and headed for the throne. The small object lay quietly in waiting on top of the rich velvet carpet that covered the throne's seat, and once he'd seen it, the Octava had to admit that for once in his life, he actually envied Grimmjow's power of expression. No words in his vocabulary – or at least, none that sprung to mind – could have accurately expressed his surprise.

'Well, I'll be,' he tamely muttered, instead.

The object that lay on the golden velvet was Ulquiorra's eye.

Or, Szayel thought, picking it up and frowning, something that could have passed for Ulquiorra's eye, had its iris been green; it was not. Light blue had replaced the cold, dark emerald color, and, for a moment, the Octava struggled with incomprehension.

It was impossible, he thought, that Stark had acquired Ulquiorra's abilities. If he had, his reiatsu would have shown some sign of a significant transformation, but, even on the final readings, Stark's patterns had remained constant. The thing he held in his hand could not have existed…unless, Szayel finally realized, the odd vibration he felt had not been Stark imitating Ulquiorra's reiatsu but precisely the opposite – the Cuarta's reiatsu slowly turning into Stark's.

Ulquiorra's eye, the Octava thought, with a triumphant little smirk, must have been akin to his zanpakutoh, and indeed, akin to all of the weapons that hung on Barragan's walls. A part of their masters' energy, but able to physically subsist independently from it.

Ulquiorra's eye reconstituted itself every time that it was used; the reshaping of the appendage might not have been one of its master's conscious abilities, even if the eye grew back in its socket, imitating the rest of Ulquiorra's energy. Now, that the Cuarta was gone and his reiatsu had been overtaken by another, the eye had done exactly the same as it always had, and imitated the shape of what the rest of Ulquiorra's reiatsu had become.

Truly, Szayel thought, with more than a little spite, consuming independent entities larger than a Menos had a very clear upside; he would soon have to give a Vasto Lorde diet some serious thought.

The Octava took a deep breath, hesitating before he sat down on Barragan's throne. He vividly recalled the sensation of being exposed to Ulquiorra's eye, even in the time when the information it held had been filtered by the Cuarta's own mind. He further supposed that the unfiltered experience would be far more intense – in fact, he had no idea of what the unfiltered experience might eventually be like. Thus, Szayel Aporro concluded sitting down might have been wise.

With yet another deep breath, and forcing himself to remember that Ulquiorra's eye induced a trance that lasted for no more than a few seconds, Szayel Aporro crushed the cold stone orb between his fingers. Fine, white dust scattered in the air in the wake of his gesture.

He breathed in.

The first thing he saw, or rather, felt, was Lilinette's hair against his right forearm. He caught a glimpse of the sky – a sky whose stars shone far brighter; he felt a warm, perfumed breeze and saw leaves and tall grass reaching for the light of the full moon.

The stars faded, and the sky turned black.

There were whispered voices in a dark room. Figures – some clad in full white, others, in full black, sitting around a table, by the light of a single, desolate candle. Hatred had the color of an old man's skin, and the texture of his dry, wrinkled hands. He felt rage and frustration; then sorrow; then fear; then, as he heard Lilinette's laughter, and the light of the full moon caressed his skin, through a half open window, he forgot everything, and felt love, completeness and peace.

He saw a crooked wooden cross, but could not make out the letters that had been etched upon it by a clumsy hand.

The world exploded to furious red.

The world dulled to grey.

Then, there was blinding light, quickly stifled by the flutter of white and blue silk; there was a bright day, with the leaves of an apple tree rustling faintly above.

_Death as absolution…The broken promise of death as closure._

He saw sand and a frozen crescent moon; he looked to his feet, to see that the shadow that stretched behind him was made of the purest, sweetest light. Figures made of sand rushed across his mind, taking shape and rising menacingly only to wane in the wind. Ulquiorra's shadow – not one side of a horned helmet, but two stretched across the stillness of the sky and remained embedded against it, darker than darkness itself, inspiring not only fear and rage, but hunger unlike anything Szayel himself had ever experienced, hunger that called from every pore and blood vessel.

He drowned in the green of Halibel's eyes and felt Halibel's skin burning his fingertips, as if she had been made of melted gold; he felt her breath against his cheek and her thighs on his hips and heard a sound he could not quite place, something that was neither a hiss nor a growl, but that he could nonetheless recognize as the sound of Halibel's laughter.

Then, melted gold slipped through his fingers; in exchange, the silvery shadows gained substance. With them, love and completeness were regained in full, and Halibel's golden skin was once more deprived of importance. The sensation of Lilinette's hair against his cheek was not nearly as strong as the sensation of her shoulders leaning on his chest; there was the crimson desire of holding her little body closer, then closer still, until nothing in the world would ever have space to slip in between them; there was the icy, blue barrier which informed he should not have. That he could not; that it was not right. Not now.

_Not like this... _

Not yet.

Danger and fear crept across the world with dark purple tentacles, in the faint rustling of black and white silk. Aizen's voice, almost drowned out by the clinking of tea cups shredded though his thoughts. The burning hatred it inspired had no color – or rather, it had them all.

For a moment, there was painful silence.

There was a dull, brief pain in the back of his neck, accompanied by the dry sound of bones cracking. Time began to run in reverse, and sensations dulled – in the remote corner of his mind that the sudden drop in the intensity of the memory had revealed as his own, Szayel Aporro understood that he'd drifted into another mindset. Color still existed, but nothing was as intense as before – if anything, all images seemed to have been drenched in grey, everything was level, and measured, and perfectly even. But although lines were clearly defined, and the world stood in sharp detail, the complete picture ran at no depth – a mere, anesthetized projection of an emotionless life.

_Stark felt. Ulquiorra registered._

The biting darkness of a Cero retreated, and half open blue eyes glinted dangerously in the darkness, though Ulquiorra wished them away.

Caked blood on his right hand liquefied, and his fingers retreated from Kurosaki Ichigo's chest, leaving the skin and bones intact. He ascended a staircase, leaving Kurosaki Ichigo behind.

A broken doorway faded in the distance, as did the glowing, teal traces of Grimmjow's reiatsu.

Szayel felt the sting of Orihime's slap long before he felt the heat of her fingers approaching his cheek and saw fiery red hair dancing across his field of vision. Long corridors ran backwards, at an even pace. Nnoitra retreated before he advanced. The doors of the Hougyoku chamber opened and closed; the image of Las Noches, made of dancing reishi crumbled before it rose from the surface of the table before him – eight points around the city glowed brightly, and because Ulquiorra knew that they were the locations of the machines that would eventually keep the Garganta closed, Szayel suddenly knew as well. A single one among them glowed brighter than the rest, but the light across its rim only served to accentuate the darkness that closed, then opened at its center – and because Ulquiorra knew where the tunnel led, Szayel knew too.

A thin, silver circlet slipped off Inoue Orihime's wrist. Blood flowed into the bodies of the unknown Shinigami that lay at his feet, and the bodies stood, before disappearing from view.

The arches of the corridors that ran around him accelerated. Barely open blue eyes glinted dangerously in the darkness, though Ulquiorra wished them away. Figures stood around an oval table, and though some of them faded and were replaced by others, the completeness of Ulquiorra's view of them never changed. None of them were new to him, none of them were unknown. In truth, it felt as if Ulquiorra imagined them – not as shadows, but as shadows with history, and memories, and amazingly detailed tales - all long before they sat. Had it not been for the fact that when Szayel's own figure drifted in, then out of the Cuarta's string of memories, it was accompanied by long buried history, and secrets, but most of all, by the complete unadulterated _truth, _the Octavamight have thought Ulquiorra truly imagined everything…But no, Szayel realized with a shudder, Ulquiorra didn't imagine. Ulquiorra knew.

And this time, he was ascertained, Ulquiorra knew because Szayel himself did, and because Szayel's memories and knowledge of his own past had remained imprinted in the heart of the gem that Ulquiorra had touched last…Not even the Hougyoku could hide from true sight.

The contours of the oval table drew out and became round, then slid open, one slice after the other, a hypnotizing staircase of circular steps leading into the dull light of the gem. One after the other, figures drifted back into the gem, and faded from Ulquiorra's memory as time rolled to the beginning and all meaning, all purpose waned and withered. In a world of well defined puppets, no more than drawings limited by their thick contours, Aizen alone had no boundaries, no lines and no definition, radiating beyond himself, expanding out of his skin as the gem grew ever brighter. A white, chiseled helmet grew over the left side of Aizen's features. The gem gave off immense power… A trickle of alien strength left Ulquiorra's veins, as the entire left side of his skull oddly drifted back into place, and torn bone joints melded together…_the gem gave off immense power_…Right handed vision became full once more, but the images it brought made no sense. A whirlpool of green light rose from the murky, blue depths of the Hougyoku, channeling away from the brightness of Aizen's fingers. Then, Aizen's fingers grew across the sky, held the sky above and the sand beneath, crumbling them, depriving them of meaning.

_We are all meaningless._

Szayel Aporro breathed out.

He lifted his fingers in front of his face, as if trying to make sure he could still control them, and distractedly noted that he had clasped the armrest of Barragan's throne so tightly that he had actually managed to scratch deep grooves into the bone.

As always when the solution to a particularly hard equation suddenly presented itself, after weeks and weeks of strenuous concentration, Szayel Aporro closed his eyes and counted to ten; excitement was the enemy of clear thought. Once his heartbeat had returned to normal, and his breath had once more become regular, the Octava ran through the countless variables once more, reconstructing the solution from the very beginning, testing all conditions and making sure that all elements balanced each other out.

They did.

'You stole from us, you bastard,' Szayel said, in a loud, clear voice, raising his chin as if looking an imaginary Aizen in the eye. 'That's what you did. You stole from all of us.'

In the world that ran backwards, from death until birth, the Hougyoku gave off power; therefore, in the true course of events, it must have absorbed it.

It was as simple as that.

And, of course, some power had left the gem as well – but it was not enough, not even comparable to what had been stolen…It was barely sufficient in intensity and nature to force reiatsu transformation into human body, to give those who had sufficient energy the ability of shaping theirs in a different manner, in a Shinigami manner…Of channeling it with more conscious control, which also gave the illusion of increased strength. But Aizen had not removed their masks, he had _taken_ them away, keeping whatever he could tear off for himself.

That was what the Hougyaku did.

It did not grant Hollow powers to those subjected to it.

It removed them, and channeled them outwards, towards any willing recipient.

And now, Szayel thought, slinking back in the seat, it _all_ made sense. Stark wasn't the only one whose strength had been stored within the gem, and the fact that his reiatsu was so compatible with Lilinette's was easily explained by the fact that when he'd given her parts of his strength, he'd unknowingly acquired trace amounts of hers. The fact that Aizen had so easily given up on his city, his creatures and especially on his _dear_ Espada also made sense now. Of course, employing them in battle might still have been useful, yet, once they had passed through the gem and allowed it to take them apart and reform them, all of them had already served their primary goal – that of placing their energy and abilities in God's hands.

For a moment, the implications of the knowledge were enough to crush even Szayel's perpetual drive for problem solving.

How could one, he wondered, even face something that had acquired such power? Even if one did not consider the tiny shards of reiatsu Aizen had taken from all of the partially made Gillian, from the Exequias, from the weaker Numeros, the thousands of shards of reiatsu that when combined, would nonetheless amount to an overwhelming amount of spiritual energy…Even if one did not consider those…How could one face a creature that had Zommari Leroux's speed, Szayel's capacity for reshaping reiatsu, Grimmjow's raw energy, Nnoitra's Hierro, Ulquiorra's true sight…Halibel's shapelessness, Barragan's experience…Stark's strength…All placed on top of what had doubtlessly been there from the beginning, all harmonized by the passage through the gem…

'Shit,' Szayel whispered.

It was no wonder that Stark had switched sides. He'd doubtlessly used Ulquiorra's eye, leaving his own, disjointed and probably unconscious impression upon it, and seen the same thing as Szayel had. He'd doubtlessly realized that standing against Aizen was impossible.

Why then, the Octava frowned, had he left the eye behind?

To gloat?

Stark didn't gloat; the less the others understood of his strength, the more vulnerable they were to his backstabbing tactics.

To intimidate?

Stark did not do that, either. He had no need to.

Why had he left the eye behind, furthermore, why had he gone to such lengths to make sure that Szayel Aporro would find it, why had he used a reference that he knew all too well only the Octava would immediately grasp, why the mythological invitation to slay the monster, if the monster could not be slain?

Did Stark somehow expect…

'Szayel Aporro Granz,' Nemu's voice exploded in his ear, so sudden and toneless that the Octava almost jumped out of his skin with fright. 'I assume your silence implies you are deep in thought.'

He breathed out heavily, composing his voice.

'Of course, Nemu-chan,' he answered, desperately attempting to sound like himself, but having the impression that he failed with every syllable he uttered. 'In fact,' he continued, with added certainty, 'I think I may be on to something.'

'Regarding?' Nemu queried, dryly.

'The location of the cross-world travel impeding devices, of course,' Szayel responded, finding that his voice was far more controllable when he knew he was telling the truth.

_Though what consequence the truth still held, when it only led to defeat…_

'May I have a few minutes to verify a hypothesis?' he asked, standing away from the throne. 'If it is correct, we should be able to travel within the hour…Yet, I shall ask your permission to move about a bit,' Szayel added, in his sweetest voice.

The silence on the other end of the line let him know she was considering the issue.

'I require input on your whereabouts, so that I can correctly process your demand,' the girl informed. 'Please state your intended coordinates.'

The positions of the eight glowing spots around Las Noches had been burned into his brain as if Ulquiorra's memory of them had been a branding iron; telling Nemu the location of one of them – the one he thought closest to his current position took no mental effort. Instead, Szayel's mind drifted to another, completely unrelated but far more comfortable issue: Mayuri Kurosutchi's shortcomings and lack of attention to detail.

Why would one go through the trouble of giving their creation a perfectly human larynx, if he had not created mental links that would enable it to express any emotion? Nemu's voice, with its complete lack of inflexions, was an all out failure in this regard; whether she inquired, threatened or stated, Nemu's voice was perfectly flat. Even Lumina and Verona, with their predefined emotional set were more able in this regard. Though their voice boxes were limited to a certain number of harmonics…

_Harmonics._

The word struck him so hard that he needed to sit back down, and he stopped speaking in mid-sentence.

'Szayel Aporro?' Nemu's voice inquired from afar.

The Arrancar did not hear it. He _saw_ it, as if on the screen of an oscilloscope.

_One fundamental frequency. Superimposed harmonics._

'Stark, you bastard…' he whispered.

Another who might have been presented with such a token of trust, might have reconsidered his burning hatred and jealousy towards Stark. The Primera could not have known how to solve the problem, but he had somehow hoped that Szayel Aporro would; that was why he had left the eye, and its seemingly pointless amount of terrifying information. Szayel Aporro didn't reconsider anything of the sort, however, or at least not immediately; he was not so easily distracted. By the time that the flurry of thoughts had receded, and the possible answer to slaying the monster at the center of the Labyrinth had presented itself, Stark's contribution to the problem's solution had already been forgotten. There was, therefore, no reason for the hatred to burn any less.

Just many reasons for justifiable haste.

* * *

Up next - Shall we play Shinigami and Espada mix'n'match?


	63. Problem Solver Personality

Good afternoon, all :) Bet you did not see this coming :) Thank you very much for reading and commenting in my absence - it was kinder and more encouraging than you could imagine, and I am truly greatful.

To my kind beta - Thank you, IVIaedhros for all of your kind help :) Could not have pulled this through without your support.

And now, since the Ulquiorra epic has ended, rather disappointingly, I might add, it is time to move on with the show :)

As you may recall, before the long hiatus, I had dug myself in very deep in a fantasy tech mess; I shall apologise, and, with your permission, attempt to dig myself out equally fast, without giving Loly and Menoly any screen time at all in...

Chapter 63 - Where Ishida does not a good detective make.

* * *

'Oh, for fuck's sake, Ishida!' Kurosaki protested, not managing to sound half as irritated as he might have liked. 'Stop blushing, man, _now_ it's outright silly!'

As if Ichigo's amusement had not been sufficiently embarrassing, Orihime giggled innocently to the side, and, after stealing another glance at the Quincy, Grimmjow buried his face in his forearm, and continued to laugh like a madman.

_Great, _the archer thought, looking away and letting out a hot breath, all the while being painfully aware of the fact that his cheeks were likely crimson enough to indicate the inevitable onset of a coronary. The fact that he was not truly embarrassed, but furious and frustrated completely escaped the others. _Just great._

It was shameful enough to be caught in the middle of a reconnaissance mission – and have nothing but one's own stupidity to blame for it.

'_If reiatsu is an electromagnetic wave, and sekki stone blocks reiatsu, it blocks all other electromagnetic radiations as well, Ishida-kun. Your communicator will not work in this room.' _

Not exactly the sort of thing one might have expected Szayel Aporro to say upon finding an intruder in the living quarters of his tower. Nonetheless, it had been exactly what Szayel had said.

Decidedly, Ishida thought, stubbornly staring at the floor, and attempting to ignore the others' amused glances, the most embarrassing thing was not being caught. The most embarrassing thing was the fact that his ill-fated sneaking had not worried Szayel Aporro for a single second. It had even seemed as if the Arrancar had felt victorious after the encounter, and that the entire thing had been absolutely pointless. He'd found the secondary panels, of course – but that was not too much of a victory; everyone knew that they existed, somewhere, and their exact location was not the most relevant thing in the Universe.

Thus, Ishida had been caught while discovering a secret that was not much of a secret, and, rather then receiving any sort of recognition for a brave gesture, he'd received a mocking pat on the back for a not-quite-adequate effort. And if only things had stopped at that...

'Leave me alone,' Ishida muttered, hearing faint shuffling of silk; he frowned and prepared to repeat his protest, but swallowed his words. He'd smelled Nemu before he'd actually seen she had sat down beside him. Not very flattering, Ishida had dully thought – her uniform carried the same subtle and neutral scent of antiseptic that Mayuri Kurosutchi's did, something that was not strong enough to be pungent, nor soft enough to be pleasant, something that pointedly expressed utilitarian cleanliness.

For a moment, Nemu had seemed focused on herself alone, and had fidgeted as if attempting to find a seated position that was appropriate; she'd finally stretched her legs, crossed her ankles and folded her hands in her lap before turning and offering Ishida one of her small, enigmatic smiles. She had perhaps intended to look encouraging, the Quincy had thought, not grudging the fact that all of Nemu's smiles were perfectly similar.

'I apologize,' Nemu said. 'I should have devised a method of contacting you and announcing that the Arrancar has accomplished his task and returned.'

'No, no,' Ishida rushed to answer, sensing the subtle twinge of fear in the young woman's voice. 'It was impossible. I should have watched myself and not gone into a zone where I was out of contact.'

'Nonetheless…'

'It wasn't your fault, Nemu-san,' he interrupted, surprised at the resolute sound of his own voice. 'Really,' he added, all concern for his own public embarrassment vanishing at the realization of the fact that although she must have known the task she had set for herself had been impossible, Nemu had still felt extremely and mechanically guilty for not accomplishing it.

Though the expression on her features had not changed, Nemu had nodded in acceptance and looked away.

'I would like to hear your mission report,' she said, her dry pronouncement making him glance at her in amazement.

Was she that subtle? Ishida wondered, with a little frown. Could she sense that he felt useless, and attempted to alleviate the feeling?

'Nemu-san,' he began, rather rebelliously, 'this is very nice of you, but I don't think…'

'I am confused by the employment of the word 'nice', in context.' The girl said, blinking twice, in very rapid succession. 'Please elaborate.'

'I mean, you don't have to pretend like I accomplished anything,' Ishida mumbled. Nemu simply blinked twice more.

'The mission parameters were finding Szayel Aporro Granz's secondary panels,' she said. 'Am I mistaken in believing that you did?'

'No, but…'

'I still fail to comprehend, then.' Nemu interrupted again; she looked up, meeting his glance. 'I would like to hear your mission report,' the Shinigami repeated, leaving no room for contradiction, and still unable to discern whether Nemu had been trying to make him feel better, or she had genuinely been processing information in her usual purely quantitative manner, Ishida sighed and surrendered.

'I found the panels,' he said. 'Even managed to open them – I think it's either that Lumina left in a hurry and left them unprotected, or he didn't see fit to put up any security on something that's in his bedroom…'

He leaned back on the wall, and drew a deep breath.

'Did he actually manage to reopen the Garganta?' Ishida asked, his thoughts straying from the machine on his memories and to its maker. 'That fast?'

Nemu shrugged.

'It is an imprecise statement,' she answered. 'He has located the devices and patched the controls to this room…'

'That fast?' Ishida insisted, still feeling eager to blame the fact that he had been caught on circumstances beyond his control, or beyond the reach of imagination; Nemu shrugged again.

'Szayel Aporro Granz's capacities are sometimes beyond my comprehension,' she said.

Like everything else, Ishida thought, then fell silent for a moment, trying to arrange the story of what he'd seen in the Arrancar's living quarters in some sort of logical flow that Nemu could follow. On second thought, it was not that he had found _nothing_. He'd found nothing that he could make sense of – the nagging feeling that something had escaped him, accompanied by the frustration of having been caught before he could figure out what precisely it was, returned with a vengeance.

'_What have we found? Hm?'_

'_Nothing,' Ishida had said – as if the word might have been an excuse for the intrusion, but the Quincy had not intended it in that manner, and Szayel Aporro had not interpreted it as such._

_He'd tilted his head to the side, smiling with gentle, polite, and awfully condescending solicitude, looking so amused and at ease that Ishida had felt no trace of embarrassment. Only frustration._

'_Does captain Kuchiki know that you are here?' Szayel had asked. Ishida had begun shaking his head, feeling offended by the notion that he might have acted on a Shinigami prompt, then he'd stopped abruptly. Confirmation that he'd acted on his own could have been dangerous; Szayel was prone to unpredictable mood swings, or well, grandiose at hiding to what his actual mood was. Letting the Octava know that the more powerful of the Shinigami were unaware of his actions was unwise._

'_Yes,' Ishida had answered._

_The hesitation and its implications had not escaped Szayel, and the Arrancar had pressed two graceful fingers to his forehead._

'_You're being transparent again, my pretty Quincy,' he had sighed. 'What do you know? Deception might not be an inherent clan ability after all.' Szayel Aporro had beamed, with even more wicked satisfaction than usual. _

Ishida looked up and away from Nemu.

To the side, under a delicate crystal dome, the Hougyoku gave off faint, dull luminescence. It almost seemed shy, Ishida thought. Just a piece of stone, a polished shard of rounded hematite – had it not been for the evenly spaced lines of code that faithfully appeared on the screen behind the dome each time that the gem glowed, one could easily have mistaken it for a child's marble.

Why would anyone create such a thing? Such a small, horrible, deceptive thing? And then, why…

'Why would he have left it behind?' Kuchiki Byakuya had asked, watching Szayel Aporro as the Arrancar carefully placed the gem under the crystal dome.

Though his demeanor had been as implacable and unreadable as always, the captain of the sixth division must have been rattled; else, he would never have allowed the Hollow anywhere near the gem.

Retrieving it had been remarkably easy, too – with nothing but Loly and Menoly to guard it, the Hougyoku, reason for deceit, betrayal and murder, had been abandoned like an inconsequential piece of decoration. In hind thought, it was even likely that the traps that surrounded the room had been nothing but a distraction, never intended to do anything more than delay those who would attempt to reach the gem.

Szayel did not hurry to answer Kuchiki's question, but the measured, pointedly slow and attentive motions that he had gone through in sealing the dome, attaching the probes and setting up the monitor that would receive the information had shown that he had an answer, and that his delay in responding had truly been nothing more than a reminder of his penchant for artificially heightening dramatic tension.

The Octava was not mimicking himself well, Ishida thought. Or at least, not to someone who had the feeling that they knew him. The discovery of the Hougyoku should have stoked Szayel's curiosity to enormous proportions, and, if anything, the Quincy would have expected some outer sign of hungry anticipation at seeing the readings. There was no such thing – no wide grin, no shriek, not even a flicker of emotion behind the thick frames of the Arrancar's mask.

He had no interest in the Hougyoku. And the only reason why Szayel Aporro would have no interest in something, anything, was because he already knew what it did.

'Why indeed,' Szayel purred, tucking his hair behind his ear and gracefully sitting down. The fact that Kuchiki was growing impatient, and the hint of insecurity in Unohana's calm, dark gaze had given the Octava the satisfaction he sought.

Szayel Aporro looked up to Byakuya, sensual malice in his golden eyes.

'Aizen left the Hougyoku behind for the same reason for which we all leave things behind, captain Kuchiki,' Szayel Aporro had said, in a serene voice. 'Because they have exhausted their utility.'

'No,' Renji had protested, stealing the words from his captain's lips. 'That can't be. We know it's not even awake yet. Wasn't that why he needed Inoue? To awaken whatever it can do?'

'Ya insist on stayin' just a step behind the plot, dontacha?' Grimmjow had growled. 'Melon chick hasn't gone anywhere near that fucking thing…'

'Stop calling Inoue…'Ichigo had begun to protest.

'You are interrupting,' Kuchiki had said, his tone as cold and as cutting as the edge of his sword. 'What is the Hougyoku's purpose?'

'The Hougyoku,' Szayel Aporro had slowly begun to explain, 'is, if you will, a reiatsu transformer. It separates out what you dogmatically call the evil reiatsu – Hollow reiatsu – and cleanses it of its, shall we say, undesirable components.'

The Arrancar's glance had grown unexplainably hard.

'Incidentally,' he'd continued, 'the very components that make us different from you and each other, our strongest and most unpredictable abilities. It then channels some the cleansed reiatsu back to its original owner; with the Hollow components removed, the structure of it is akin to that of Shinigami reiatsu, and focuses it into the formation of a human body. The additional discipline gives the illusion of control and thus enhanced power,' he had smiled, thinly. 'but it is, in fact, quite akin to castration.'

No wonder, Ishida thought, no wonder that Stark…The irony of having one's reiatsu re-ordered to Shinigami fashion, if one had spent one's entire existence hating Shinigami was perhaps more obvious to Ishida than it had been to anyone else. The archer could not have said what form he would have chosen between Shinigami and Hollow, had he been in Stark's shoes, yet, he had the nagging sensation that he knew _exactly_ what his father would have picked.

He shuddered.

'Some of the cleansed reiatsu?' Grimmjow perked. 'What do ya mean, some?'

'I mean what some normally means, Grimmjow,' Szayel answered, in a bored tone. 'Not all of it.'

'That's bullshit,' the Sexta spat. 'Human form can't master that amount of reiatsu, so whatever is left over went into the swords. We already know that, so quit your…'

'Hm?' Szayel smiled. 'Whatever is left over goes into the sword?'

'Yuh,' Grimmjow muttered.

'Really?' the Octava asked, golden eyes widened to enormous proportions in mocking surprise. 'Then you could, say, revert to your full Adjucha form at will, kitten?'

Grimmjow froze in place.

'…the fuck are you tryin' to say?'

'I'm saying that you cannot,' Szayel responded, and this time, he had neither sounded superior, nor amused. 'Neither can I. Nor can any of us – our released forms only go half way back. Maybe even less than half,' he whispered, leaning back in the chair and closing his eyes. 'I could not know, because I never reached the limit of my evolution potential as Vasto Lorde, and you certainly cannot know because you were far away from it. I do not know what additional abilities I might have had, or what , and neither do you, thus, given everything else, I think it is safe to assume…'

'Are you saying that he stole our powers?' Neliel Tu asked, arriving at the conclusion just a step ahead of everyone else; Ichigo looked at her in surprise, not knowing whether he was shocked by the words, or by the fact that she had grasped everything so fast.

'Where could all of it have gone?' Szayel had softly asked; unlike Ichigo, he had not seemed surprised by Neliel's speed of thought. 'We certainly do not have it anymore, and I doubt it was dispersed as environmental energy. That would have been quite a waste, and whatever Aizen Sousuke is…'

'He is not wasteful,' Unohana whispered.

'Indeed,' Szayel approved. 'I believe,' he followed, at the end of long seconds of silence, 'that Aizen has carefully amassed the components of our strengths that the Hougyaku cleansed and that he has channeled them into himself. It all makes perfect sense, now,' he said. 'His indiscriminate use of the gem, and the fact that after the transformations all of us were more or less useless to him. It explains why he let all of his Espada lose and die, without once intervening, it explains…'

'Ulquiorra,' Orihime whispered. 'It explains why he abandoned Ulquiorra…'

'Precisely, Inoue Orihime,' Szayel smiled. 'The reason why he never intervened for any of us was that he had already obtained all that he had true use for. And thus, captain Kuchiki,' the Octava purred, returning to his malicious detachment, 'we arrive at your answer. He has left the Hougyoku behind because he has already used it, to the maximum of its capacity.'

The rest of the conversation had been all but irrelevant – amid Grimmjow's protests against a truth he grasped but could not truly bring himself to accept, Kuchiki Byakuya's stony silence and the fact that Unohana had seemed disturbed for the very first time, questions had risen and fallen without answers. And, for the first time, Ichigo had asked the best one of them all.

'So, why was this made?' the human boy asked, scratching the back of his head. 'Not like, now, but back then, when it was made…I mean, did Urahara just wake up one morning and think to himself – I'm gonna make a Hollow power remover today?'

'I do not see why that would be such an unlikely possibility,' Szayel Aporro stingily replied, with the air of one who'd had the idea numerous times. On the edges of Ishida's attention, and discreetly enough for the gesture to almost go unobserved, Unohana looked away.

'You do know why this was made, don't you, Nemu,' Ishida said, softly. 'But you are not going to tell me.'

The girl looked at him, not even a trace of surprise in her deep eyes; she did not answer, and she did not lie.

'You are not going to tell me,' the Quincy repeated. 'No more than Unohana will tell Kuchiki.'

Nemu had bravely sustained his glance, until the human had looked away from her and chuckled to himself.

'It's strange how funny I find the fact that Kuchiki is so totally in the dark over something,' he said. 'Not sure that's good for us, at the moment, but I really do find it funny…'

'The original goal of the Hougyoku's creation has no relevance to the current situation,' Nemu replied dryly, her words leaving no room for contradiction. She'd spoken as if she had just stated the result of an undeniable mathematical reasoning process.

And perhaps she was right, Ishida thought. Szayel Aporro seemed to think exactly the same thing, and somehow, the Quincy doubted that the both of them could have been wrong at the same time.

The archer looked down at his hands, with such focus that one might have thought he was seeing them for the very first time. He already knew what was coming.

_The archer had sighed, and sat on the small rounded stool, turning it around so he could face the Arrancar._

'_Fine,' he'd said. 'Kuchiki doesn't know that I am here.'_

'_How wonderful!' Szayel had exclaimed, pressing his palms together. 'Under different circumstances, I would dare hope that this could be the start of an exquisitely pleasurable half an hour.'_

'_Szayel Aporro,' Ishida had sighed, barely repressing the urge of slapping his forehead. 'You are incorrigible.'_

'_Of course I am,' the Octava had purred, leaning back and half closing his eyes. 'And I do love a young man who can confidently say 'incorrigible'.'_

_He'd tilted his head to the side, his little hand drawing arcane patterns on the white silk of the bed cover._

'_Perhaps I should phrase my question differently,' Szayel had said. 'What were you hoping to find?'_

_Ishida had frowned as menacingly as he could, and the Octava had giggled._

'_Surrender,' Szayel Aporro had sweetly enticed. 'We are both bright individuals, and bright individuals do not snoop without reason.'_

'_Did you find the cross world travel mechanisms?' Ishida had shot._

'_Now you're being utilitarian,' Szayel had cranked his nose. 'Of course I did.'_

'_Can you reopen them?'_

'_Please,' the Octava had sighed, rolling his eyes in utter boredom. 'It's already in the works; success rarely eludes me, and even when it does, it can only do so very briefly.'_

'_Then what are we waiting for?' Ishida had continued to query._

'_We are waiting for captain Kuchiki to make his triumphant return, with the Hougyoku.' Szayel had answered. 'And I,' he'd added, not letting Ishida dwell on his surprise, 'am still breathlessly awaiting your answer.'_

'_I don't know what I was hoping to find,' Ishida had finally answered. 'Context, perhaps,' he'd followed; Szayel had grinned approvingly. 'It's not that you hide things, Szayel Aporro, it's that you tell too many of them. You volunteer so much disjointed information that it's impossible to tell what is relevant and what is not, and I think you do it on purpose.'_

_For a moment, Ishida had had the sensation of seeing beyond the mask; Szayel Aporro's glance had softened, ever so slightly, and his smile had seemed honest._

'_That's very true,' he had answered. 'The only foolproof way of always being able to outthink a bright individual is giving them more to process than they can possibly handle. Our common friend, Kurosutchi Mayuri taught me a very valuable lesson in that regard.' _

_Ishida had sustained the Arrancar's gaze for a minute longer, long enough to ascertain that the reference to Kurosutchi had not been meant to be another distraction. He had then sighed and let his shoulders slump._

'_You win, then, I guess,' the human had said, wistfully running his hand over the side of the secondary panels. 'I can't figure you out; by now, I am starting to feel like an idiot for even trying...'_

'_Oh, please, don't give up on me just yet,' Szayel had answered, with a quick wink. 'I have to admit I find you most entertaining. Would you like a hint?'_

_The Quincy had looked up rebelliously, preparing to say that if nothing else, he'd earned the right to not be treated condescendingly. The words had remained unspoken – Szayel Aporro's question had been thoroughly honest, and Ishida had mulled over it a little. He had felt that he had been toyed with, but he'd felt no intent to harm from the other's behalf._

'_What is with these panels?' the human had asked; he'd immediately learned he'd asked the wrong question. Szayel had sighed demonstratively, and cranked his nose once more._

'_Meh,' the Arrancar had said, 'still with the panels…That is not a contextual question, Ishida-kun, it is yet another detail. And, I assure you, a thoroughly pointless one.'_

'_Still,' Ishida had insisted, feeling childishly keen to obtain some sort of confirmation that his suspicions had been justified. 'What is with these panels?'_

'_There is nothing with these panels,' Szayel had answered. 'Or at least, no more than you have doubtlessly found on your own; they are just another interface to the back end of the reiatsu processing machines, and the only thing that makes them special is a partition that holds a few incomplete but highly important variable sets…'_

'_Such as Kuchiki's?' Ishida had shot, yet again not finding his aim._

'_Such as Kaname's, Ichimaru's and, last, but not least, Aizen's,' Szayel had scolded, now looking insulted. 'For however delightful, Kuchiki Byakuya does not even register on their scale. Also,' the Arrancar had added, biting his lower lip, 'his models should, by now, be quite complete.'_

'_You would not have been able to get anything on those three in the past few days, Szayel Aporro,' Ishida had protested._

'_No, of course not,' Szayel had responded, with a little chuckle, which had made Ishida's frown finally falter and turn into open confusion._

'_So you were doing it even before…' the archer had begun, his incomplete question answered with a confident nod._

'_Why did you think I collected Cirucci?' Szayel had shrugged. 'I assure you, I am not a sadist – well, perhaps I am a little bit of one sometimes, under very specific circumstances and with a suitable partner, but even then it is only in the strictly sexual connotation of the word. Intellectual curiosity and arousal do not mix, pretty Quincy; in fact, they are rather mutually exclusive. Not enough fuel in the system to keep two engines running at full capacity simultaneously,' he'd giggled._

'_I thought you had collected her as a form of revenge,' Ishida had said._

'_Not really,' the Arrancar had answered. 'Besides, you prove inattentive. I did not only collect Cirucci; I also got Dordonii, who lost against your friend Kurosaki – and, before I was woefully distracted by Abarai and yourself, I was planning to collect the opponent of your other friend…Come to think of it, I could have been just slightly more subtle.'_

'_Hm?' Ishida had frowned._

'_I got caught,' Szayel had responded. 'I should not have counted on the discretion of the Exequias, or on the fact that Gin would not be watching them – he was watching, and he did bring my cleaning operation to Aizen's attention. Yes,' the Octava had whispered, mostly to himself. 'I could have been just a tad more subtle.'_

'_The reason why I gathered Cirucci's sorry remains, Ishida,' he reiterated, his voice returning to its normal pitch, 'was because I was hoping to catch some clues about Aizen's own reiatsu. The logic was simple: Cirucci Thunderwitch and Dordonii were distinct entities. They naturally should have had no fragment of reiatsu make-up in common – it is, if you will, as cross-referencing the DNA markers of two humans to find out whether or not they are related.'_

'_And, in this case,' Ishida had said, guessing what was to follow, 'since the two of them should not have had anything in common, anything that they did have in common must have belonged to Aizen.'_

'_Et voila,' Szayel had purred. _

'_Were you always preparing to turn on them?' the archer had asked._

'_Do not mistake me for Stark,' Szayel had responded, with a grin that had made the human's heart skip a beat. 'I am not always on the lookout for the correct backstabbing angle. I did not truly mistrust Aizen, and I did not resent his authority.' he had sighed, 'I simply saw he had done things that I did not fully grasp. It is my opinion, pretty Quincy that accepting things that one does not understand will eventually come back to haunt you; I did not understand Aizen or the Hougyoku, but their relevance in my newly found existence was tremendous. Just like you are now, I was hungry for some sort of context. After all, I had thought that I had been made because of my inquisitive nature. It is the only thing that I possess that the rest of them do not - I did not think that he would grudge me that...'_

_'But then,' Szayel had completed, softly, 'I did not know how much, exactly, he had to hide, and why my curiosity led me to become dangerous.'_

_'I am unsure you were ever dangerous, Szayel Aporro,' Ishida had said, seeing the opportunity to sting. 'You merely became disposable...'_

_Yet again, the Octava had defied Ishida's expectations; his gaze had grown distant, but not angry._

_'I beg to differ,' the Arrancar had said. 'I must have become dangerous; I was always disposable,' he'd concluded, with a small grin. 'From the very beginning.'_

_For a creature that found itself perfect in all ways, Ishida had thought, Szayel Aporro had uttered the phrase too lightly, too detachedly. The self professed centre of the rational Universe could not have so easily accepted that he had been anything else than irreplaceable - to any person, in any context...such an admission would have led to the fact that somewhere along the way, there had been some sort of momentous logical failure. That he had been wrong. _

_And Szayel did not admit to being wrong._

_Not unless he had either already corrected the error, or found a way to correct it._

_'You've learned something, out there,' Ishida had said, not a question, but a statement._

_Szayel Aporro had nodded, and Ishida's breath had hitched in his throat._

_'Look,' he'd exploded, darting to his feet, 'let's assume that you have built the dramatic tension and you have the audience on the edge of their seats, and for once, just for once, skip the suspense...'_

_'But why?' Szayel had pouted. 'You are not only adorable when you beg, you're also adorable when you're annoyed...Fine,' he'd muttered, when the Quincy had finally given up and shaken his head in annoyance. 'Don't allow me to have any fun.'_

_Finding that he had not enough strength to argue further, Ishida had sat back down and listened to a logical train of thought that he would hear again, in but a few minutes. He'd blanked his mind, and allowed it to follow Szayel's precisely - he'd felt as if he had been following the Octava down a road with a myriad deceptive crossings, and oddly, he'd felt safe with the notion that the path that led to the conclusion was wide, straight and clear amid the distractions. Szayel had not stopped at any crossing, but he had explained why the sidetracks - why? how? who? - were irrelevant, in context. It did not matter why the gem had been made, it did not matter who had made it. Those explorations might have been worthwhile at some point in the future, but not now. For now, the only thing that truly mattered was what Aizen had gained from using it - and, to his horror, Ishida had found that the path of Szayel's deduction led deeper and deeper into darkness, away from the light of day and hope. It felt as if he had been following in the catacombs beneath a crypt._

_'So when we will face him, we will face you all,' Ishida had whispered, in the end. 'At once.'_

_'Effectively,' Szayel had shrugged._

_'And you have no doubt that this is...'_

_'None.'_

_'We're fucked,' Ishida had matter of factly stated - he'd looked to the side, clenching his jaws in defeat...and then, at the end of a few moments of heavy silence, he'd heard the only sound he had ever thought he would never be happy to hear._

_'Heee! Not quite so,' Szayel had exclaimed, the sudden high pitch of his voice making Ishida lose his balance; he'd leaned heavily on the panels, accidentally pressing a few buttons. Images of a folder structure that he had never seen before had flickered before him. He'd only registered it with the corner of his eye and less than a tenth of his attention, and he'd had even less than a tenth of his desire to truly take notice. Szayel had not paid any extraordinary heed to it either; he'd simply chuckled at Ishida's plight. _

_'Don't tell me you think you have a solution,' Ishida had breathed._

_'But of course I do,' the Octava had beamed. 'Have you ever known me to make a problem statement without offering a solution? I never do that; it's detrimental to my image...'_

_Szayel Aporro had adjusted his glasses._

_'Problems that I cannot solve do not exist.'_

Ishida lowered his glance; indeed, they did not.

* * *

Up Next - Stark is up to no good. Was he ever?


	64. Onwards and Outwards

Good afternoon one and all,

...and thank you for reading and commenting! It is indeed great to be back, and your kind words make my day, every day. With Iviaedhros' help, we shall actually see this one through ^^ To make a change from my regular pattern, Stark is actually going to be *slightly* naughty in this one. Yet, of course, since the men have been taking far too much of my attention lately, it's Lilinette and Apache that you have to watch out for in this one. Thus:

Warnings: Language, Language, Language! (Poor Sasakibe, could not have happened to a nicer man...)

Chapter 64 - Where Grimmjow must be getting the hiccups!

* * *

_Not now, gods…not now…_

Ukitake Joushirou unconsciously held his breath, as if trapping the air in his weak lungs could have trapped the beast as well, and prevented it from sinking its teeth and claws into his chest. It did not work – he knew that it would not, and, as the dry, painful cough ripped through his ribcage, he wondered why he never let go of the hope that it would. It was childish, he thought, trying to repress the spasms, although he knew all too well that not allowing himself to cough would only result in more pain and more blood. Each time that he felt the onset of an attack, he held his breath – like he had the first time, when he hadn't known he was battling something that was beyond all medicines and beyond all healing magic, when he had simply thought it was a cough.

He knew better now, the white haired captain thought, and yet…Each time, every single time, he still held his breath, like a child who closed his eyes in the hope he could simply wish a scraped knee away.

Ukitake pressed the sleeve of his haori to his lips, hoping that the blood would not seep through; it was enough that the others had heard him. They did not actually need to see how serious this attack had been, how serious the attacks had become in recent times…

He looked up and around himself, forcing himself to draw breath and feeling as if the air had been filled with invisible, frozen versions of Senbonzakura Kageyoshi's petals. Perhaps, he thought, straightening his shoulders, he did not always hold his breath because he hoped to prevent the onset of an attack. He simply held it because breathing was painful.

Shunsui had not even looked his way, and though Ukitake understood his friend's lack of attention was artificial, he felt strangely comforted by it; it felt as if the fact that Shunsui pretended not to notice his weakness rendered it less grave, less painful…less shameful.

In the beginning, at the onset of the disease, Shunsui had reacted to it like all of the rest, ill-concealed concern, and painfully artificial optimism, amid a million attempted cures and miraculous tea recipes, endless bedside vigils and hushed, frightened, whispers on the corridor. Unlike the others, however, Shunsui had soon noticed that the burden of the suffering and anxiety he caused in others was worse for Ukitake than the disease itself – he'd noted how his friend grew paler and more tired after each visit, and how much effort it took simply to politely and humbly accept all advice.

Thus, Shunsui had stopped bringing tea; he'd brought sake instead. He had stopped talking about the things they would do once the mysterious foe that lived in Ukitake's lungs would be defeated, and started doing them, instead. On sunny days, he had first opened the bedroom's doors to the garden, then gently coaxed Ukitake to the terrace, then onto the garden itself. Instead of bringing miracle cure recipes, he'd started bringing copies of the Shinigami Monthly, stolen minutes of the Shinigami Women's Association meeting, and, sometimes playing cards which depicted women in lewd clothing – and though the illustrations had made Ukitake blush, everything else had made him laugh and think, and feel included in everyday events that had previously seemed increasingly remote.

Ukitake hadn't gotten better, but he had felt better, as if Shunsui's unrelenting decision of ignoring the disease had, for brief amounts of time, negated its very existence.

And this, Ukitake had thought, stealing a glance to the side, was what Shunsui was attempting to do now. He must have known how ashamed his friend was of displaying such an obvious sign of weakness when naught but his strength was needed.

'I am alright,' Ukitake said, softly, though he'd known Shunsui would not ask the question.

'Well I'm not,' Shunsui responded, not missing a second. He tipped his hat back and scratched his head. 'It's like that Arrancar wanted to go straight through us,' the captain of the eighth division added. 'Well,' he'd corrected, with a little laugh, 'through you, mostly…'

Ukitake frowned questioningly.

It was true, however, he admitted to himself. The Arrancar that had brazenly and provocatively passed in between the two captains just a few seconds ago had left all of his whipping reiatsu out – just for a second. But then, Ukitake had realized, the Arrancar had also _slowed down_ for a second, just as he passed between the two, as if deliberately allowing them to catch a glimpse at his frame, at his cold blue eyes, and mostly, as if he had intended for the entire unleashed fury of his energy to engulf Ukitake, and cling to every particle of his being. Not to Shunsui, though. The Arrancar had left Shunsui untouched.

'He wants us to follow,' Shunsui said, with a little shrug.

'I think he wants me to follow…' Ukitake had begun, only to be cut off.

'I'll go,' Shunsui responded, with just enough pause in his tone for it not to seem overly brisk. 'I'm getting stiff,' he shrugged again. 'And sort of sleepy,' he added, with a wide grin.

Ukitake did not smile.

'They are trying to divide us, Shunsui,' he said, softly. 'They pulled each of us to the side, so they could face us alone, and so far…'

'I know,' Kyoraku answered, this time tilting his hat forward, so that it would obscure all but his chin. 'That's what I would be doing if I were in their shoes. But I'm afraid they are leading the dance, for the moment. If I do not go, he will destroy the tower, so we do not truly have much choice.'

_And I am not strong enough to chase,_ Ukitake thought.

'And, of course, if I don't start moving, I _will_ fall asleep,' Kyoraku matter-of-factly added. 'I need to drink something,' he sighed. 'Watch Yama-jii, eh?' the captain of the eighth winked; he disappeared without leaving Ukitake time to respond, or tell him to be careful.

Normally, Ukitake thought, he would not even have considered saying such a thing to Shunsui. Yet…

The white haired captain swallowed dry, taking a deep breath to soothe the monster; in the distance, Komamura's bankai rose against the sky, its contours blurred by the dance of a myriad golden reiatsu particles.

Hitsugaya was gone; Soi-Fon was gone.

This time, Ukitake, actually felt the desperate need to tell Shunsui to be careful, although he knew Shunsui would. It was irrational and reflexive; just as reflexive as holding one's breath before an attack.

Or, perhaps, before a fall.

* * *

'An' he didn't, like, mention me...at all?' Apache asked.

Lilinette paused to scratch her head, and felt quite grateful for the Kidou which had just exploded between herself and the obviously disappointed odd-eyed Fraccion. The smoke and fire gained her another two seconds of thought.

'Erm,' she tentatively began. 'I wouldn't say Grimm didn't mention you at all. He mentioned you, I think, erm...twice!' Lilinette victoriously concluded, settling for a partial truth. The satisfaction, just as the distraction provided by Sasakibe's efforts, lasted for a little bit longer than half a second. 'Whaat?' the blonde muttered, as Apache floated to her side and frowned menacingly. 'We didn't really talk about anythin'...'

Apache's frown only grew deeper.

'An' what did he say?' she asked, her narrowed eyes letting Lilinette know that she was on thin ice. 'Oh, fuck off!' she yelled, darting upwards just in time to avoid Sasakibe's charge. 'I'm talkin' serious shit, here!' she added, as her foot connected with the Shinigami's shoulder; the force of the hit angled his trajectory downwards, but was not sufficient to break his speed.

Sasakibe immediately spun on himself and brought his rapier to the ready.

'Think we could save the chat for a bit later?' Lilinette had hopefully inquired, grinning as innocently as she could. Given Apache's disposition, the tactic was doomed to fail.

'No,' Apache dryly replied. 'We do it now. There ain't no later; not like I can ask you 'bout Grimm when Halibel-sama is around, now, can I?'

She darted off to the left, while, with a defeated sigh, Lilinette floated off to the right. Not knowing which of the two to follow, Sasakibe remained still, preserving his guard stance; by now, he had learned that neither of the two girls had any qualms with attacking from behind, and that setting off in pursuit of one of them left him open to the other's attack. The wide open space worked in their favour, as he could not hope to corner them and keep them together. Neither of the two was strong enough to pose a serious threat to the First Division vice-captain, but both were just powerful enough to pose a threat to the tower beneath, and fast enough for a single mistake to be lethal. In truth, their speed made the Shinigami feel like a mobile bouncing pad; no sooner had he managed to fend off one, with contact so brief that only the sparks which flew at the crossing of swords seemed real, that he had to rush to catch up with the other. Their alternative attack pattern left him little room for initiative, and had begun to grow exhausting.

Which was probably their intent, Sasakibe thought, squinting in an attempt at making out Lilinette's sleek figure in the bright sunlight. They planned to continue to force him to chase until he grew too tired to move, and the difference in sheer stamina would make up for the difference in strength.

'So?' Apache angrily spat, over the Shinigami's shoulder. She'd approached so fast that he had not even felt the air moving. The serrated edge of the girl's weapon had hissed dangerously past his left ear, and, before dodging reflexively, Sasakibe had fancied the blade felt hot from the speed of the rotation. 'Ya gonna tell me, or what?'

The tone of brunette's question had been the only hint that the Shinigami vice-captain had received of how close Lilinette had come in her turn. He'd caught a glimpse of her bladed fist, no more than a sharp, furious glint aimed at the right side of his face - his evasive motion had broken abruptly, and, realizing that he could dodge neither left, nor right, Sasakibe had directed his Shumpo downwards.

'Fine,' Lilinette answered, huffing in dismay - at the Shinigami's narrow escape, or at Apache's insistence - Sasakibe could not tell. 'Firstly, he said something about your boobs, and then...'

'What the...?' Apache exploded, her reiatsu rippling so furiously that the Shinigami drifted a further few feet downwards, out of sheer precaution. 'He runs off to fuck knows where, to do fuck understands what, an' pulls the shit of the century on Aizen-sama - without tellin' me nothin', either - and then, when he talks about me, he talks about my boobs?'

'He said they were better than mine,' the blonde offered, with a little embarrassed shrug.

Oddly enough, Sasakibe, who had not the first idea what the conversation was about, correctly intuited that the answer would not be to Apache's liking.

'Ya, well, that sounds exactly smart enough to be comin' from Grimm,' the odd-eyed girl muttered, resentfully chewing on each word; Lilinette shrugged apologetically.

'Yeh,' the blonde agreed.

'Asshole,' Apache concluded, showing her arms in her pockets, and kicking at an imaginary obstacle. '...can't fucking believe him...' she said, under her breath. For a moment, the flavour of her energy changed, roaring fires suddenly fading to resentful embers.

Lilinette looked to the side, barely withholding a tell-tale sigh. She'd gotten off well, the Primera Fraccion thought; she'd managed not to lie, or at least, not completely, and avoid going into details that she reckoned Apache would not have liked to hear.

_...here one day, gone the next..._Grimm had said.

Apache would definitely not want to hear that.

'Motherfucking idiot!' Apache screamed - the fury in her voice reflected in the speed of her movement. She sprang upwards toward the tower, the minute tension in her ankles propelling her as if she had had tens of feet to build her momentum. Red and heat began to gather at the tip of her mask's horn, faint and swirling rays of energy weaving into a trembling tunnel as the Arrancar moved. The blonde Arrancar seemed as surprised by her companion's move as the Shinigami had been; enemy glances had crossed, for a fraction of a second. 'What the fuck was he thinking, eh?' Apache yet again screamed, from dangerously far above.

Hopelessly confused, but instinctively knowing that the furious surge in the dark-haired Arrancar's reiatsu would translate into the force of her attack, the Shinigami rushed to intercept the Cero explosion, and it was only after his Bakudo had swallowed the red, tearing light that Sasakibe realized the attack had been unfocussed, and would have missed the tower's top by several feet. It had not even seemed like an attack, the Shinigami thought, allowing himself to drift to the correct height. It had simply felt like an unfocussed release, as if the young woman had not even meant for her Cero to be an attack, but rather, as if she had fired it because she could contain it no longer.

'Asshole,' Apache whispered, her voice rippling with so much pain that Sasakibe's sword arm had trembled. 'I dunno why I even bother!'

'Apache...' Lilinette began.

'Apache, nothin'' the odd-eyed girl declared, with a cutting hand gesture. 'He got shit for brains,' Halibel's Fraccion followed, making Sasakibe feel as if he had simply not existed. 'Boobs, eh! Shit for brains!'

'Yeah,' the blonde responded, simply; not because she agreed, but because she understood it was just easier this way - the fact that Grimmjow had not thought of Apache when he'd picked his camp was easier to accept if both of them pretended Grimmjow did not think at all. 'But', she shrugged, 'what did you want him to say? He's Grimm for fuck's sake, boobs and blood and beatin' people up are all he ever talks about. What did ya think he was gonna say?'

'Dunno,' Apache growled. 'Somethin' else. Anythin' else. Dunno, babe,' she added, looking down to Lilinette. 'nevermind me, not like I expected anything. But I was sorta thinking that after all this bu-ha-ha, he might have said somethin' that'd make better last words.'

Lilinette sustained Apache's glance for a moment, and saw through the murderous glint in the other Fraccion's blue eye.

'He-he!' she light-heartedly giggled, drawing Sasakibe's confused stare. 'Ya're worried!'

'Like hell I'm worried!' Apache huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. 'Like I'm gonna stay up three nights in a row worryin' about a dude who takes off like it was nothin', and when he talks about me, he ain't got nothin' better to say than that my breasts are better than yours. I mean, don't get me wrong, babe, but that ain't much of an observation; Tousen could've said that...'

'Hey!' Lilinette perked. 'That's not fair!'

'I ain't worried,' the brunette flatly declared, trying, but not quite managing to imitate Halibel's royally detached pose. 'He does what he does, and if he wants to break his neck, he's free to break his neck. He didn't ask me about it, so it's none of my business.'

'You can still worry,' Lilinette permissively shrugged.

'But I ain't worryin', dontcha hear me?' the odd-eyed Fraccion shouted, completely letting go of the wannabe-Halibel pose, and shaking her fist in her companion's direction. 'I ain't worryin' a moment. Least not about him; he weren't that good in bed anyway,' she'd brought herself to say, miraculously managing to preserve her voice's furious edge.

'Who-hoo, too much information!' Lilinette said; above her, the Shinigami found himself nodding rapidly and sheepishly.

'Nah,' Apache refuted, dryly. 'He's got like, this thing, where he's gotta tear down walls with his dick - that was fine with me. He thinks he don't owe anyone anythin', and that's fine with me too, an' I know that I don't know what he's thinking half the time, cuz he never tells me...'

'Or anyone,' Lilinette shrugged.

'He tells _you_ shit,' the other girl muttered.

'About _your_ breasts,' the blonde answered, in a conciliatory tone. 'It never pissed you off before...' Lilinette tried.

'Yeh, well, before was before,' Apache frowned. 'Now is now, and now, maybe, I think he could've taken three minutes outta the murder schedule to tell me - Yo, woman, gonna go get medieval on Ulquiorra's ass, just so he lets me try an' myself killed by the Shinigami. An' failing that, I'm gonna try an' see if I can get myself killed by our side. Ya have a nice day, girl!'

She clenched her fists.

'Not like he'd be leavin' me to defend him to Halibel-sama, an' go on sayin' - Grimm wouldn't do that, an' if he did, I'd know about it - for two fuckin' days, like an idiot, right? Not like he didn't make me look the fool when it turned out that he did run off, and not like he'd owe me anything after I stood with his sorry ass when he lost his rank and his fucking posse! He doesn't owe me nothin', cuz I gave without him askin', so...who the fuck cares? If he don't give a crap, I don't give a crap either.'

'Grimm's not gonna ask permission for anything,' Lilinette said.

'Yeah, and least not from me,' Apache answered, taking a deep ragged breath. 'I just fucked his brains out for the past year, why would he be tellin' me shit?'

'Maybe if you were less hooked on hanging with the Queen of I Have A Broom Up My...' the blonde resentfully muttered.

'Don't you get me started!' Apache exclaimed. 'Grimm knew that I'll stand with Halibel-sama no matter what happens, from the very beginning. Not like I'm gonna give up who loved an' protected me an' grew me for a flippin' century, for the likes of him. An' he knew that all too well; I never asked him to give up his crew, he ain't asked me to give up on mine.'

'Then why are you pissed at him for not telling you shit?' Lilinette shrugged. 'I mean, not like Grimm's too subtle, but maybe he didn't want to put you in a place where you felt like you had to choose...'

'Fine job he did of that, then,' Apache spat. 'He didn't put me in a place where I had to choose, he just put me in a place where I gotta watch him die, and there's not a damned thing I can do about it! How fair is that, ha?'

She swallowed dry and looked away.

'How fair is it, Lili?' the brunette repeated, helplessly extending her fingers, as if attempting to force all of the bitterness out of her body and mind. 'After how much I spoke up for him, though I knew it pissed Halibel-sama off each time...'

'Eh, Grimm didn't need nothin' from Halibel,' Lilinette said, then bit her tongue, as Apache's glance became clouded with sorrow. Grimmjow might not have nededed anything from Halibel, that much was true. But Apache did. 'I reckon it ain't fair at all.' the blonde agreed, swallowing dry.

The Primera Fraccion paused for a moment, wondering what else she could possibly say. She thought of saying that Grimm was what he was, and if Aizen couldn't bring him in line, then nobody could – and Apache should have known that from the very beginning. She also thought of saying that she was not afraid of coming against Grimm in battle - no matter what side he stood on, Lilinette knew that Grimm would be on her side, and that she'd be on his side, and maybe Apache should have thought of it in those terms as well. For however stupid, foul-mouthed and reckless he was, Grimm never forgot a debt, and he never forgot who all had stood by his side, when he was in trouble.

Apache had. She had not distanced herself from her part time lover and full time maniacal half when he'd fallen from grace, as the entirety of Las Noches had predicted. She hadn't suffocated him with her attentions either – it wasn't her style, and it wasn't his style. Still, the fact that Apache had visited Grimmjow's bed in Numeros at least as often as she'd visited the one in the Sixth Tower had been a powerful enough message. Apache's presence, carrying the implied weight of Halibel's authority had been as important in keeping Grimmjow safe from the teeth and claws of his many rivals as Lilinette's had been.

And it was precisely this that _hurt._

Apache had trusted him; by extension, she'd endowed him with Halibel's trust, and probably pushed her superior's patience and love for herself to their very limits. In the throne room, the Tercera had made her stance on Grimmjow perfectly clear on many occasions. She was one of the many who had welcomed Grimmjow's demotion and she not been thoroughly thrilled when he'd been reinstated. Still, outside of the throne room, she had never intervened in Apache's choices, and though she had not been warmly supportive - for both warm and supportive were personality traits that Halibel utterly lacked - she'd been as permissive as she possibly could have been. Whether it had been because she'd seen that Apache had found room to indulge the sides of her personality that Halibel forced her to repress, or because she'd welcomed her Fraccion's growth to adulthood, the Tercera had let the affair run its course. For someone as prescriptive and uptight as Halibel was, it must have been quite a feat of willpower - she'd done it, nonetheless, and, in the back of her mind, Apache must have acknowledged the effort, and felt grateful.

But now, it had all come to an end. Apache had spent all the capital of her mistresses' love and patience, and she'd spent it all on a losing gamble. After this last and most serious of Grimmjow's offences, Apache could say or do to protect her lover from the superior she cherished.

It was not as if Halibel would ever reproach her underling for Grimmjow's actions, for the one thing that Halibel was really good at – and one of the things that Lilinette hated most about her – was letting other folks draw their own lessons from life. Thus, the Tercera would not even mention Grimmjow again to Apache, but, in true Halibel style, she'd crush the Sexta right in front of her, to make sure that the lesson had been properly assimilated.

For a moment, Lilinette felt inclined to say that Halibel should have kept her bloody lessons to herself.

'He's gonna be fine, Apache,' Lilinette said, instead. 'Stark...' she began, then stopped abruptly, unexplainably casting a cutting glance at the Shinigami. 'Don't worry. Whatever happens, Grimm's gonna be fine,' the blonde reiterated. 'He's always fine; cats have nine lives, remember?'

'Yeh, well, Grimm's on the eleventh,' Apache whispered; the rounded, childish lines of her friend's cheeks aged and sharpened, in sign that Lilinette acknowledged the truth. 'He picked the wrong fucking time to go completely bonkers. We're gonna win, here, Lili,' the dark haired girl followed, looking through the Shinigami, and to the structure behind him. 'You an' me, babe, we're gonna win, here. An' after that, we're all...gonna win. Halibel-sama says it's so; she says that Aizen-sama can't be beaten. And that after he's done here, he is gonna make the world completely new, like it never was before...'

'Halibel says plenty o'shit,' Lilinette answered, cranking her nose. 'The world's just fine as it is. It don't need no makeovers.'

'We're gonna win, Lili,' Apache said, as if she hadn't heard the blonde's voice.

The vice-captain of the first division of the Gotei rationally knew that the confidence in the woman's voice should have sparked revolt and denial in his soul.

_No, you are not going to succeed, here,_ he should have thought. _You are not going to succeed, and I am here to assure that you will not. For all that is correct, just and fair, for the sake of balance, I..._

But Sasakibe Chojiro thought - and felt - nothing of the kind. He simply acknowledged that despite the hatred that burned in the dark-haired Arrancar's eyes, and despite the deep chill that the mention of the traitor's name drove through his bones, he could notice no more than the regretful vibration in the woman's voice.

'And when we win, then Grimm's gonna die.'

The blonde's eyes narrowed.

'Ya being chicken?' she shot; the words worked their magic.

'What ya say to me?' Apache shouted, shaking her fist.

'Your lips are movin', an' all I hear is cluck-cluck!' Lilinette chided. 'All I hear is whiny! Next you gonna grow huge boobs, blonde hair, and start yappin' about consequences an' shit. You tellin' me you don't wanna fight here?'

'That's not what I just said,' Apache muttered.

'But that's what I heard,' Lilinette interrupted, with crushing confidence. 'Look, Grimm's made his choices and you've gotta make yours when the time comes, that's all there is to it. But ya know what he'd think about people not fighting a right fight 'cuz of abstract nonsense. The two of us and this old dude, the tower an' our fight here, we got nothing to do with Grimm. This fight's about us being better than this old geezer. Which we bloody are, and we oughta prove - so,' she concluded, 'we oughta win, and stop thinking bullshit. What's gonna come's gonna come anyways.'

Too fine shins and calves, too delicate a body tensed, and floated upwards.

'Sides, if you really wanna get in that deep, you should see that it's only if Aizen-sama wins that Grimm's gotta die.' the blonde little girl said.

Apache's moment of hesitation was noticeable, but short lived; in turn, Sasakibe frowned, knowing that he had heard something important, but not understanding what it was.

'We are all one with Aizen-sama, Lili,' Apache said, bitterly.

To Sasakibe's surprise, the blonde smirked as if she could not have disagreed more.

'We'll see about that,' she mumbled; it was unlikely that her companion heard her.

Without warning, red Cero light exploded from above, blinding Sasakibe to the deceivingly warm silvery mist of the Cero which expanded below his feet. This time, Apache's aim was beyond reproach.

* * *

Up Next - The predictable pairing of Stark and Shunsui, which sadly does not result in happy drunken people... :(


	65. Inherent Injustice

Good evening one and all, and welcome to our next installment :) Thank you for all your kind words over the past week! and just as a reminder, while I love to hear from y'all (and I do!) if you leave me anonnymous comments I cannot respond :( Just briefly though, to the person who left me the long worried review about the change in character listing: Never fear, I am as faithful to my Espada as I always was. However, it's been a long tradition of sorts for me to change the character listing to reflect the folk whom I feel play the most important part in the chapter. It dates back to the time when neither Szayel nor Stark had earned their place amid the Bleach characters in the FF drop-down. :) The character listing of Understanding has even once stooped to contain Tousen. Yes, yes, none of us were pleased about that...

Whomever you are though, thank you for kind comments, your concern, and especially for reading Better Unsaid. It will make it's way to soon enough.

Of course, no chapter beginning could pass without acknowledgement to my great betas - Maidros and Iviaedhros, who toil to keep me smart, focused and on track.

Warnings: Lots of heavy philosophy.

Chapter 65 - Where Ishida fails a test, and Szayel Aporro means business.

* * *

Kyoraku Shunsui paused in mid-air, casting a brief glance over his shoulder before looking ahead; the image of the Arrancar who simply floated above the marble structure ahead, with his legs crossed, and chin leaning on his palm was almost as hard to believe as the fact that, somewhere behind him, an unknown and stifling reiatsu had risen to grind away at Komamura's.

The Shinigami stopped twenty yards away from the Arrancar, but did not approach further; he did not miss the significance of the fact that the man before him sat just about the tower – from what he had seen of the Arrancar's powers so far, he would need no more than a gesture to strike the structure apart. Still, he did not. He seemed content on dreamily glancing through Shunsui and into the distance and, for a moment, the Shinigami had the eerie sensation that the Arrancar would ask him to step aside and let him watch the battle that raged behind him.

'Your friend is going all out, back there,' the Shinigami noted.

'She'll win,' Stark nodded, dreamily.

'She must be extremely powerful,' Shunsui reasoned further. 'Which one of the three is she…?'

The Arrancar before him knitted his brow.

'Her name is Halibel,' he answered, and though his voice had not seemed more awake, nor less casual, it had carried a tremendous amount of anger. 'She was a beautiful and powerful creature before Aizen-sama crossed, she continues to be so now. The rank he chose to bestow upon her enhanced her in no way, and is absolutely irrelevant.'

'Duly noted!' the Shinigami responded. He paused, then, noticing that the Arrancar's stance had not changed, took another step closer. 'I am…'

'A Captain of some division,' Stark sighed. 'Your name will tell me nothing, and your division number will tell me nothing, and I promise you I will forget both in less than half an hour. It's not an insult, mind you, I just have a bad memory. Or,' he added, with an unexpected glimmer of humour, 'I will be dead and it will not matter anyway. Thus…'

'You're right,' Shunsui conceded. He advanced a further half step – this time, Stark raised his glance, warning the Shinigami not to attempt to come any closer. Shunsui stopped, and, at the end of a second of consideration, sat down and crossed his legs in his turn. 'I thought you were under orders to destroy the tower, Arrancar,' he said, after a moment of consideration.

'There's time,' Stark shrugged. 'I thought you were under kill on sight orders.' he added, at long length.

Shunsui tilted his hat back, yawned and shrugged in his turn.

'There's time,' the Shinigami replied, and both men fell silent.

White, blinding light exploded against the sky, in the distance, with the obliterating power of midday summer sun over the desert. Unwillingly, Stark lowered his head and smiled, sending out a wave of reiatsu just powerful enough to let Lilinette know he appreciated her Cero; on the remote edges of Karakura Town, and far away from his sight, he knew that she'd be grinning from ear to ear.

'You are the one who killed Hitsugaya,' Shunsui said, at length.

'No,' Stark refuted dryly. 'Ichimaru Gin did.'

This time, the Shinigami could not mask his surprise; he looked up and frowned, all pretence of dreamy carelessness melting from his features. Stark sustained his glance without flinching.

The statement had been too casual to be an attempt at deception, and it was not sorting out the truth that gave Shunsui pause; instead, the implications of the Arrancar's words struck up a flurry of thoughts, each more concerning than the next.

'I hope you did not actually think Yamamoto's Jokaku Enjo would keep Aizen, Gin and Tousen captive indeterminately,' Stark continued, with a deep sigh. 'How many times can you underestimate these men? Once, I'd understand; twice, perhaps – but the third time, it's simply embarrassing.'

'It's not necessarily that we are underestimating them,' Shunsui responded. 'I think we are trying to deal with one problem at a time... Baaah,' he suddenly exclaimed, leaning back on his arms. Contrary to his relaxed posture, his eyes narrowed with tense attention. 'That was the last complication we needed,' the Shinigami continued. 'It's getting increasingly hard to keep tabs on either friends or enemies.'

Stark did not respond, though his answer was clearly awaited.

'Either way, thank you for that. It's useful knowledge.' Shunsui continued, 'It's just too bad I cannot offer you a drink to kill some of this time...'

'That is quite all right,' the Arrancar shrugged. 'I am a wine drinker, anyway. Grape wine,' he added, for clarity.

'Tried it,' Shunsui shrugged. 'Gave me a tremendous headache in the morning…'

'Then you clearly had the wrong sort,' Stark answered. 'Plus, I believe it does not marry well to a diet of raw fish.'

'True, true,' Shunsui agreed. 'That is what Ukitake, my friend back there, keeps trying tell me, but…'

'Is that his name?' Stark shot; his reiatsu, which seemed to have risen out of nowhere, whipped at Shunsui's cheeks with the fury of a tornado.

'Interested in names all of a sudden?' Shunsui asked, with undisguised irony. It was entirely wasted on Stark.

'Only in this one,' the Primera answered.

'He does not remember you,' Shunsui continued, keeping his voice on level. 'Nor will he. He will remember _her_, though. I am assured of that.'

'That is a relief,' Stark said, biting irony in his voice and in his eyes.

He paused, trying and failing to place the man before him anywhere in his memory; he gave up soon enough – black shinigami uniforms clouded his thoughts, like wings of ravens.

In turn, Shunsui did not insist. He did wonder, however, how sometimes past battles seemed more pressing than present ones; white and blue Quincy capes drifted across his memory, helpless and irrelevant like snowflakes falling over a fire.

Kyoraku Shunsui did, indeed, remember the Arrancar before him. To him, the young girl had been just an unnecessary bookmark in a tome that would have opened to a too often read page all on its own. The fact that the Hollow had so clearly meant to draw Ukitake aside had simply confirmed Shunsui's intuition, and thus, he had rushed over before Ukitake himself could accurately place the other man within his memories. Such thoughts were unnecessary now, and memory could only encumber.

Which would have been a pity; this battle, Shunsui felt, would deserve all the focus he could muster.

The quantity and eerily controlled aggression that flavoured the Arrancar's reiatsu clearly showed that the Hollow's memories were neither an instant or imprecise flare, nor a fire stoked by artificial outside intervention. The Espada knew exactly why he had attempted to draw Ukitake to the side, and his fury was so precisely channeled that it did not overspill to anything that got in the way. This creature, Shunsui had realized, had clear memories of its own, and their weight had made the hollow stronger, steadier, as ballast evening the balance of a frail vessel.

Or, more appropriately, as weights added to a sword's hilt made its strike slower, but nonetheless deadly and precise. The information on Gin's whereabouts might have been conveyed because the Arrancar hoped Shunsui would withdraw and stalk a different target, leaving the path toward Ukitake open. Equally, the Espada might have thought that as long as the tower was standing, he would eventually face the opponent he truly sought to face.

None of it was bad logic. In fact, the Shinigami admitted to himself, it was admirably good logic; it demonstrated confidence, patience and determination, and, in combination with the little girl's lingering presence, made Shunsui distantly wish that this Hollow would not have to be an enemy at all. It seemed like too much of a bitter irony.

Gods knew that some battles were necessary, and Shunsui had lived long enough to understand and accept that inalienable truth. He had also lived long enough to see that the simple passage of time transformed and warped the definition of necessity in ways that were better left unquestioned. The Sereitei seen its share of _necessary_ battles over the centuries; Shunsui had never disobeyed, and not hunted for answers he could not obtain, yet, from time to time, he'd at least wished that he would not have to fight the same necessary battles twice.

The cycle itself was, sometimes, too much of a bitter irony.

Not that admitting that would have made any difference to the Hollow. Not that it should have.

For a moment, Shunsui felt the unexplainable urge of explaining himself, and stating that to a Shinigami, who, for better or worse, had set many souls on their path through the cycle, remembering a particular one or its particular circumstances was truly wondrous. Not because any souls were unworthy of remembering but because one would rather forget the things that one could not influence, and, through the years, just like all other Shinigami, Shunsui had come to realize how little he truly mattered in the grand cycle of the Universe; in the end, the mighty death gods were no more than a blank indicator at a crossroad. Touched by a zanpakutoh, souls chose their own paths, and neither the Shinigami's mind nor heart could change the outcome.

But that would not have mattered either; in fact, Shunsui well understood, it would have made things worse.

It did not matter that Ukitake's zanpakutoh had seen to the volatile essence of the little girl's soul, and it did not matter that souls were thought to choose their own path. Shinigami logic could only take one thus far.

Once one surpassed its boundaries, one might have come to wonder whether the choice was truly as an independent an action as the Shinigami liked to assume. Perhaps this one was as tainted by circumstances, and unseen strings as every other choice, and then, if kind men could sometimes choose to forget their inner kindness and act out in anger or impatience, if evil men could sometimes defeat their natures and be generous, with no more prompt for action but some unreadable feeling or memory, who was there to say that the choice of path was anything more rational, or more linked to a soul's essence than any number of other choices?

For what could have been worse, souls had no memory of having made that choice before, and even after having passed through the cycle several times they still faced the decisive moment as if it had been the first time, every time, with no experience to inform it or guide it. In this, all souls were equal - equally innocent before a zanpakutoh; this very lack of knowledge lied at the root of the Shinigami philosophy that divorced the outcome of the judgment from human circumstances, and solely it with something that no one could really grasp, or see, or touch, but which must have been undeniably present. The soul's essence, in whichever form it chose to present itself, determined the path. It had to, and one needed to believe that.

Because, if one did not believe it beyond doubt, one would have queried many other things – such as, for instance, what would happen to a good soul that had lingered and run across a Shinigami on a _really bad day_, and whether the outcome of their judgment would be different from that of an evil soul with superior rational control over their rage and hunger. Then, as a consequence, one might have further queried if, once in Hueco Mundo, souls truly had any other path of preserving their identity other than refining their evil, and, indeed, if evil had even been a defining characteristic of the soul, or as much of an adaptation to the environment as a predator's claws.

One might even have come to guess that the concentration of the evil was not the irrefutable cause of the judgment's outcome, but simply its direct and unavoidable result.

Indeed.

Thinking and saying such things would help no one.

'He has never forgotten,' Shunsui chose to say, for lack of anything better. His voice had carried no trace of an apologetic ring.

'Nor have I,' the Hollow answered. In turn, Stark's voice had carried no inflexion of anger, and had been all more terrifying because of it. 'And it is good that he has not,' Stark continued, closing his eyes, and lifting his chin, to face into the blue, immaculate sky above. A cloud, shredded and scattered, dragged soft indecisive shadows over his features. 'He, at least, will understand why he is fighting, today.'

'You judge him harshly, I fear,' the Shinigami contented himself on saying.

'Fine choice of words,' Stark answered; the sudden clench in his jaw had made the Shinigami realize that his wording had been most unfortunate indeed.

There was sadly no other choice of words. And no other choice of action.

'You will face me before you face him,' Shunsui had said, imitating the Hollow's gestures, and looking up at the sky.

Stark shrugged.

'If you wish,' he said. 'You are all the same to me.'

'I wish I could say that you are not all the same to us,' Shunsui had responded.

_But I cannot say that, _he thought.

Judging by the ironic and honest smile on the Espada's features, Shunsui grasped that the Hollow had understood his meaning well enough, and that he had sufficient sense of humour to appreciate it.

The Shinigami did not look away from the sky, and the shredded, scattered cloud dragged its shadows over his features as well. He'd thought of taking advantage of the last moments of the truce to pointlessly say that he had not forgotten that particular afternoon either, though he'd not asked himself the same questions as Ukitake, and his own memories had had little to do with the young girl.

Shunsui had never truly asked himself whether any action on behalf of the Shinigami could have helped the soul on its path, soothed the anger, the frustration, helped the soul focus the better parts of its essence…He'd asked himself the question that immediately followed in the logical string.

If the path of a soul was not determined by the strong inclinations of their essence, but rather by the circumstances that surrounded their life and the moment of their judgment, then the outcome of the judgment was all but random. And if that was so, strong souls who were not inherently evil could have landed in Hueco Mundo by sheer force of accident, and grown truly evil within it. Once the evil was strengthened, all subsequent judgments would do no more than focus it further.

If no mistake ever went unpunished, and if no lapse was allowed, if one single set of unfortunate circumstances could have set a soul on an almost inescapable spiral towards evil, then the Shinigami did not preserve the balance of the soul cycle. They just simply and irremediably tilted it. In only one possible direction.

'I've often wondered if perhaps you and your kind were right, Quincy,' Shunsui said, simply.

The Arrancar had breathed in, then out, slowly and purposefully.

'Then you too understand why you are fighting, today,' Stark answered.

Despite the exchange, neither man moved for their sword.

Around them, time was growing impatient.

* * *

'Well, now you've heard it,' Ishida said, softly, as Szayel Aporro triumphantly finished the exposure of his plan. By the looks on Kuchiki and Unohana's faces, and the expression of utter incomprehension that was imprinted on Kurosaki's features, the Octava would have the satisfaction of repeating his solution at least twice more. 'Do you think it will work?' he asked Nemu; like always, she considered the question in earnest and recalculated before answering.

'Yes,' she answered, simply. 'Szayel Aporro Granz is correct. Aizen's reiatsu could not have been intrinsically altered to match the Hollow components that he has absorbed through the Hougyoku; those patterns should have remained independent, and thus, his reiatsu suppressors should be effective in separating and cancelling the patterns that they recognize. Once the Garganta are re-opened and with minimal effort on behalf of the 12th, the suppressors can indeed be patched through the power lines of the fake city.'

She stopped for a moment, and her voice dropped to the intensity of a whisper.

'We have already learned how the procedure works,' she said. 'The power structure of the Karakura replica is 12th Division standard, exactly the same as the one that concealed Ichimaru Gin's...'

Ishida hastily waved his fingers, and Nemu fell silent, looking blankly ahead.

'There is only one difficulty to anticipate.' she said, at length.

'Just one?' Ishida ironically inquired.

Nemu decisively nodded, but Szayel Aporro provided the answer in her stead.

'One predicatble difficulty,' the Octava said, standing away from the group of Shinigami, and slowly striding over towards Ishida and Nemu. 'The suppressors cannot distinguish the original pattern from the replicated one. This means that once they come in place, they will cancel all occurrences of a specific pattern.'

'Which means that if your solution is in place, you will be unable to support the fight,' Kuchiki stated, flatly.

Szayel Aporro had not looked over his shoulder; he'd instead looked Ishida straight in the eyes and smiled wryly. _He makes my head spin_, the Octava had quietly mouthed, so quickly that the Quincy had not even had the time to distinguish whether he'd truly seen Szayel's lips moving.

'I fear so, captain Kuchiki,' the pink-haired Arrancar had purred, instead; when he had turned to face the Shinigami, the expression in his eyes had been one of deep, innocent regret. Yet again, however, the mask had not been perfect, and a shadow of a satisfied smirk had remained in the corner of his thin lips. Perhaps, Ishida had thought, he had not truly cared to hide it.

Because he knows he's right, the archer thought. A glance from Unohana had caused the tiny, almost invisible shadow of tension that had suddenly marred Kuchiki's icy expression to vanish. And they know he's right, and that they cannot face Aizen without him.

'Waaait just a freaking moment,' Grimmjow said, his voice exploding in Ishida's thoughts and ripping them asunder. 'You plan to do somethin' that makes me unable to fight?'

'Try to see the positive side, Sexta' Szayel sweetly responded. 'You will still be able to curse...'

'What the fuck!' Grimmjow exclaimed, taking a wide decisive stride towards the Octava and forcing him to retreat a step in turn. 'I ain't down with...'

'Now, now,' Szayel had said, defensively lifting his palms, 'please do not be concerned - I will not immediately remove your capability of ramming your head into a wall at great speed. I would not, after all, even dare dream to diminish your admirable suicidal drive - on the Shinigami's behalf, no less...' he'd hissed, in a barely audible voice.

'Sadly,' Szayel academically continued, crossing his arms over his chest and pushing past Grimmjow, 'placing the suppressors will take some time, and interfacing them to the false city will take even longer. If we are all fortunate, it may just give you enough time to get yourself killed in a suitably idiotic manner.'

'How long can your machines stay in place?' Neliel Tu asked. 'I remember...'

She cut herself off abruptly, obviously unable to think or utter the phrase to the end. Szayel Aporro coldly looked to her.

'...that it was quite brief,' Neliel Tu finished, as if meeting his glance had fed her anger and her courage.

'They can stay in place for as long as it is needed,' Szayel answered, at the end of a brief pause.

'What will the effect of the machines be on reiatsu models that are not fully processed, vice-captain Kurosutchi?' Byakuya impassively asked - though his voice had been fully under control, the words had been precisely what Szayel Aporro had been waiting for. True, wicked enjoyment flashed in the depths of his eyes, but he did not rush to answer. Not because he did not have an answer, but because he needed Kuchiki hear something else first.

'I do not know,' Nemu admitted, simply. 'I understand the functionality of the reiatsu suppressors, not their internal mechanisms.' she unwisely clarified, answering the hidden meaning of Kuchiki's question.

Satisfied by her words, Szayel Aporro offered her a quick wink.

'Yo, Kuchiki,' Grimmjow sneered, drawing a deeply disapproving stare from Ichigo. 'Why don't you ask what you really wanna ask, dude?'

'Enlighten me,' Byakuya responded coldly, his glance slipping away from Nemu; Szayel Aporro snickered softly to the side, then passed Byakuya at an unpleasantly close range, heading back to his panels.

'What ya're really meanin' to ask is what the machines are gonna do to your own reiatsu, ain't that right?' Grimmjow had asked, wolfish grin stretching to momentous proportions - at the fact that he'd guessed the Shinigami's true meaning, or at the fact that the captain of the sixth had drawn back, unconsciously trying to avoid Szayel's too close proximity - it could not truly be guessed.

'I inquired what the effect of the machines will be on incomplete reiatsu,' Byakuya continued, undisturbed. 'Since the suppressors went unused thus far, I think it is safe to assume that they cannot work against everyone.'

'Yeah, man, doubt you got all the data on Aizen and Gin and...' Ichigo begun.

'...fucking Tousen?' Grimmjow interrupted. 'No, he doesn't.'

'No, I do not,' Szayel admitted, with a grin that hinted at the fact that he did not think much of this particular issue. 'You _will_ have to do something by yourselves, my dear Shinigami.'

'An' I'm willing to bet my left arm that he ain't got shit on Halibel, Barragan and Stark, either.' Grimmjow drawled.

Ishida looked away.

'Now, that...' the Octava said, seeking the Quincy's glance...

_'...is partially incorrect,' Szayel had said, smiling sweetly._

_Ishida had frowned._

_'Well, I've seen all of them listed under incomplete reiatsu models. If your machines cannot handle patterns they only partially understand, then...'_

_'Then I cannot suppress their reiatsu, yes, that is true.'_

_The Octava's eyes had narrowed._

_'But then,' he'd continued, 'the true question is not whether I can suppress their reiatsu, but whether I can kill them. Correct?'_

_'Yes,' Ishida had responded, softly._

_'And I must say, if you have gotten to the incomplete reiatsu models, then you have done quite a lot of snooping. I should really consider additional protection,' Szayel had smirked._

_'...so can you kill them even though you do not have their complete reiatsu patterns?' Ishida had impatiently interrupted._

_'Not all of them,' Szayel had answered. 'Only one of them. And,' he'd continued, 'lest you want the others to think unsavory thoughts of you, I'd like to share this good news with the rest of the assembled group...'_

_He had stood up, and headed for the door, but Ishida had not followed._

_'Which one of them, then?' the Quincy had pressed; the Octava had turned about up and smiled._

_'Your turn,' he'd cheerily announced, leaning on the doorframe._

_'My turn?' Ishida had questioned._

_'Indeed so - I've caught you snooping in a very dangerous place, and I have been kind enough to answer all of your questions,' Szayel Aporro had shrugged. 'It is your turn to answer some, I would say. Quid pro quo?'_

_The archer had hesitated, pale fingers suddenly tense against the reassuring cool surface of the board. Szayel should have been smiling - he enjoyed his games so, and this, all of this, must have been a game... - but Szayel Aporro was not smiling. He'd been looking at Ishida with an expression that the archer could not interpret, which was unlike the moment when him and Renji had stood in the middle of that accursed room and given a feign chance of escape. _

_Expectation? Ishida had thought. Does he expect me to guess? Reason through something?_

_And all of it was in spite of the fact that the situation had felt remarkably similar: for some reason, Ishida had felt as trapped now as he had felt then. The only difference was that now, he actually felt as if the Arrancar had been giving him a way out of whatever the maze was._

_'Ask,' Ishida had said, softly, and expecting anything else than what Szayel Aporro had said next._

_'In your snooping,' the Octava had begun, 'did you, per chance, take a look at the sensor array?'_

_'What?'_

_'Just casually,' Szayel had shrugged._

_'Yes,' Ishida had muttered, 'it was the first thing I checked.'_

_The Octava had arched his left eyebrow._

_'There was nothing,' the Quincy muttered. 'There was absolutely nothing - the third and second tower sensors were recording white noise, and the first tower sensors were completely blank.'_

_There had been a small, pregnant pause, and Ishida had had the strange feeling of being in class, with his homework undone._

_'There was absolutely nothing,' he'd stubbornly repeated. Szayel Aporro had smiled, resplendently, and somehow, Ishida had known that he had failed._

_'I know how to kill Stark,' Szayel had said, shrugging softly._

* * *

Next Up - Ishida will regret having failed Szayel's pop quiz.


	66. King of my Castle

Hello, hello ^^

It is once again time for me to thank you for all of your kind words, and proceed.

Tonight's chapter has set both Byakuya and Szayel on Maidros' hit list. That did not bode well for Shiro-kun, so, I worry. IVIaedhros, on the other hand, thought Byakuya was not as bad as he might have been :D I sense a creative difference?

Nonetheless, before you engage this...

Warnings: Szayel Aporro is a negative character. No, he is not loveable and pink. He is A BAD GUY! in

Chapter 66 - Where Ishida is reminded he should have read the warnings...a few chapters back.

* * *

_Must be the reason why I'm king of my castle  
Must be the reason why I'm freeing my trapped soul,  
Must be the reason why I'm king of my castle,  
Must be a reason why I'm making examples of you._

_---_Wamdue Project, King of my Castle

* * *

'Well if I didn't see that one fucking coming,' Grimmjow hissed, baring a canine.

'Yees,' Szayel sweetly offered in response, 'I guess my interest in that particular endeavor was quite transparent...Nonetheless,' he added, stretching with feline grace, 'I think that captain Kuchiki should be thrilled.'

'I am not disappointed,' Byakuya stated, dryly. 'I was, however, under the impression that you do not fully comprehend his reiatsu, either.'

'Indeed,' Szayel shrugged, 'I do not. But that is unnecessary - let us not get stuck with a single algorithm, and think that all problems have only one solution. The only reason why I am interested in the reiatsu in the first place is because it protects the human body; killing that is the ultimate goal, and, in Stark's case, I think that the reiatsu can be bypassed. Which,' he wisely added, 'is good, since I have no idea how something that large could possibly, ever, be repressed.'

'Go on,' Ichigo said; he instinctively reached out for Neliel's arm, running his fingers down to her wrist until they became entwined with hers. Surprised by the gesture, Neliel Tu looked up, to the boy's forcibly reassuring smile. For a moment, Ichigo looked as if he was about to say something else, too, something along the lines of _I am sorry, _or _I wish things were different_...or anything else that might have counted to the effect. He did not, perhaps because he could not settle on the exact words. He simply drew her closer, and held her hand tightly enough for words to become unnecessary.

'To keep a long story short,' Szayel replied, with unexpected brevity, 'during our first skirmish against your colleague, Kurosutchi Mayuri, I have noticed that Stark's body is susceptible to the Ashizogi Jizou neurotoxin. A suitable dosage would incapacitate his human body to give enough of an opening.'

'That's not unusual,' Renji frowned. 'I think that can work on anyone.'

'Not really, dude,' Grimmjow shrugged. 'No clue what a neurotoxin is, mind ya - an' I don't want you explainin' it either, Szayel Aporro!' the Sexta warned, his scowl clearly pointing at the fact that he would have welcomed a lecture on the subject with a suitably placed punch. 'but I reckon it must be some sort of poison.'

'And?' Renji insisted. 'Don't poisons normally work on everyone?'

'No, dude,' the Sexta answered. 'To get poisoned, you might actually need, ya know, a blood flow or, literally, guts...'

'Szayel Aporro Granz has a blood flow,' Nemu said, dryly.

'That's because he's new,' Grimmjow refuted. 'He actually thinks he needs one.'

'And what, you don't?' Ichigo snapped, making the Sexta look at him in disgusted surprise.

'Have...you...noticed...the Hollow...hole?' Grimmjow slowly said, as if he had been addressing a toddler who could not yet speak. He demonstratively waved his fingers in front of his stomach, their shadow eerily dancing over the silk of his vest, behind. Ichigo swallowed dry.

'The extent to which our bodies are normal varies,' Neliel added, frowning lightly in Grimmjow's direction. 'But they certainly don't work in the same way that human bodies do - they may imitate the shape, and some of the functions, but...'

'...attempting to make perfect parallels between the anatomies is pointless,' Szayel concluded. 'That's why, Abarai-kun, poisons do not work on everybody. Ashizogi Jizou would leave Grimmjow quite indifferent.'

''Cuz his Hierro is on his skin,' Ichigo said, beginning to understand.

'Light! at the end of the tunnel!' Szayel exclaimed, clapping in pure glee. 'Yes, Kurosaki Ichigo. Because his Hierro is on his skin. Stark's however, is not - he can project it far outside, and he most often does. Which means, that beneath his shield, his human body is sensitive to the neurotoxin.'

'Can you materialize Ashizogi Jizou, vice-captain Kurosutchi?' Unohana asked, with a kindly smile. To Ishida's surprise, Nemu hesitated for a moment.

_She would like to try_, the Quincy realized, as Nemu's eyes grew dull, in sign that she was calculating her chances. She remained silent for a few seconds, perhaps for entirely too long; light kindled in her eyes once more, oddly bright and hopeful, and she lifted her chin, only to encounter Byakuya's stern gaze.

'No,' Nemu responded, dryly and neutrally. 'But it is not necessary. I can replicate the neurotoxin itself. I cannot think of a way of administering it, however; the neurotoxin would have to be applied directly to the former Segunda's human body, and that implies bypassing his Hierro.'

'Captain Kenpachi should be capable of that,' Isane said.

'Ha!' Szayel exclaimed, then turned about, maliciously snickering to himself. 'Captain Kenpachi! And his speaking lipoma!' he shrilled once more. 'You're too much!' he added, shaking his pink tresses and addressing no one in particular. Gripped by completely unshared amusement, the Octava sat down at his panels and started typing at a leisurely pace, while pointedly ignoring the glances aimed at his shoulders.

'What!? What is it?' Ichigo exploded; before he could catch himself, Byakuya sanctioned his outburst with the shadow of an approving nod. Szayel's snickering stopped for a moment - or at least long enough for him to cast a deeply compassionate look over his shoulder.

'Kenpachi's big, but I ain't sure he's that much of a menace now that Stark got his reiatsu back, dude,' Grimmjow muttered. 'I ain't been around for to remember what Stark was like before the Hougyoku, but...there's been talk. Look, he ain't been around for three hundred years by having a thin skin.'

'Nah,' Ichigo reassuringly began, 'but you see, Kenpachi is, like, immortal; his level of reiatsu is unlike anything anyone has seen before.'

'That's not correct, Kurosaki Ichigo,' Szayel Aporro sighed. 'Regardless of what you and your equally learned and strategically inclined...colleagues...have seen or not seen before, the point is that Stark _has_ seen Captain Kenpachi, and I assure you, he will stay on a diametrically opposed side of the planet from him. Even if Captain Chaos and Corporal Confusion could possibly go through Stark's defenses, they will not even get close to him this time. He is a fast learner. No, no,' he said, gracefully waving his fingers, 'I fear Captain Kenpachi is unsuitable for the role. In my humble opinion, the dosage should be delivered from a distance, preferably from an angle that is not covered by Stark's Hierro, or by someone against whom Stark would not bother to raise his Hierro.'

Byakuya's stare gained unexpected focus.

'So,' Szayel Aporro resumed, fully spinning his chair around, and tucking his hair behind his ear, 'let us recapitulate the requirements. We shall be needing a hefty dosage of the Ashizogi Jizo neurotoxin; Nemu-chan will provide to that, while I put the final touches on re-opening the Garganta. Then, in terms of administering it, we shall need someone who uses a ranged weapon, is trained to exploit every possible opening, and whom Stark will not find threatening. Someone he perceives as weak, or just simply, someone he likes.'

Cold light gleamed over warm gold, as Szayel looked up to Byakuya, and, with surgical precision, delivered poison to a different target.

'Where might we find such a person, I wonder?' the Octava inquired, sweetly.

'Well, Ishida's your man,' Ichigo triumphantly proclaimed. 'I mean, he fits what you said like...'

'Shut up, Kurosaki,' Ishida growled, darting to his feet.

'No, man, seriously,' Ichigo pressed, so amazed by the others' reaction at what he had thought a compliment that he did not take note of the fact that Neliel Tu had let go of his hand. 'You could hit a coin at like a hundred yards, and you're sneaky, and fast, and the guy actually likes...you...oh. Oh,' the boy said, his enthusiasm fading as his thoughts caught up with his words.

'Oh,' Ishida mockingly echoed, pursing his lips.

The Quincy's furious glare did not linger on his friend for too long; Kurosaki was Kurosaki, and he'd predictably reacted to a well placed bait. Instead, the archer looked to Szayel Aporro as if he had hoped his glance could be as sharp as his arrows.

Szayel Aporro arched an eyebrow.

_Are we feeling betrayed, pretty Quincy? Did we not predict this?_

Many answers to the unspoken question crossed Ishida's mind, only to vanish into nothingness before they were fully formed - yes, he had expected that Szayel Aporro would sooner or later find some sort of use for the conversation he had eavesdropped into; yes, he had expected that, no matter what confessions Szayel had made, in turn, he could not be trusted...But indeed, he had not expected that the Octava would so swiftly and unrepentantly place him in such an ambivalent and inescapable position.

'Low,' Ishida whispered. 'Even for you...'

'I believe Szayel Aporro Grantz's logic is correct,' Byakuya dispassionately said.

'Thank you,' Szayel purred, his glance not shifting away from Ishida's. 'I believe this is the first time that you do acknowledge my merits, Captain Kuchiki - whatever next?'

'I shall next acknowledge your merits once the Garganta are open,' Byakuya responded dryly.

He crossed his arms over his chest, paying no heed to the fact that Szayel Aporro had demonstratively rolled his eyes, and turning his cold attention to Ishida.

'I expect you have no objections to contributing to our efforts.' he said.

'I could think of a few,' the Quincy answered, between his teeth.

'Ishida,' Ichigo intervened, softly, noting that Byakuya's eyes had narrowed. 'Whatever the guy was, man, he's now something else...'

Had the glance that the Quincy threw him been furious, he might have continued - yet, Ishida's glance had carried neither anger nor hatred. It had simply been laden with bitterness.

'Like, for instance,' Ishida said, 'how much you can actually trust _me_. I did not come here to contribute to your war effort, Shinigami. Kurosaki should know this all too well - I came here to make sure that my friend is safe, and since Inoue-san is standing here, I have accomplished what I set out to do. I am not a member of the Gotei, nor do I aspire to be one; even if we...disregard,' he breathed, hotly, 'past history, it is not too long ago that I almost lost my powers while defending Inoue from a member of _your_ prodigious organization. I have plenty of reasons to hate you and work against you...'

'But you wouldn't, man...' Ichigo tried again, resolutely stepping between Byakuya and Ishida, who were slowly drifting towards each other. 'Not with so many innocent people trapped in the middle of all this.'

'It would be an act of treason,' Byakuya said, before Ichigo could turn to him and stop him. 'And, in the wake of battle, it would certainly be treated as such.'

'I have no allegiance towards you,' Ishida responded, coldly. 'Nor am I under any obligation to assist Sereitei with any problem of its own making, this war _and _Stark included. You and yours have created all of this, Kuchiki Byakuya - Aizen's ascension is a result of the Gotei's lassitude as much as Stark is a result of its pointless cruelty during the Quincy wars...'

'But...uhm, that's not the point,' Inoue said, shyly. 'It's not who started it, Ishida-kun, it's who's caught in the middle...'

'Yes, Inoue-san,' the Quincy answered, his fury receding to bitterness. 'Isn't that always the point? And isn't it odd that every time that the point does come up, everyone has to bend and help the Gotei, regardless of whether they are right or wrong?'

'The actions of Sereitei are not to be judged by you,' Byakuya put in simply; Grimmjow slapped his forehead.

'Wow,' the Sexta exclaimed. 'An' people call me a dickhead...'

'Not helpful, Grimmjow!' Ichigo muttered. 'And can you cut a bit on the royal disdain, Byakuya, you're starting to get to me, too,' the human boy whispered.

'For the last time,' Byakuya answered, with a deep sigh. 'Use proper form of address...'

He looked to the side and took a few deep breaths, stilling the temper none of them knew he possessed.

'And you expect me to take orders from him?' Ishida asked, swiftly turning towards Ichigo, and clearly reading Byakuya's attitude as a sign of superior impatience. 'The more I watch them, the more I realize my father and Stark were absolutely right. This organization is capable of nothing more than posturing, and they can accomplish nothing without exploiting others - particularly those that they have, in some way or another shunned or viciously mistreated.'

Unexplainably, Ichigo bit his lower lip.

'Who do you mean?' he asked, in a soft voice.

'I mean Urahara-san, and Yoruichi-san,' Ishida breathed, too angry to notice that Ichigo had looked relieved, and that Unohana's attention had sharpened in turn. 'They have helped you at every opportunity, though you have made no gesture of good-will towards them.'

'Sereitei has taken no action against them.' Byakuya answered, looking to the side.

'I am sure the gratitude keeps them up at night,' Ishida sneered.

'Urahara Kisuke does nothing against his will,' Unohana said, softly; though her voice had been kind, her words had held an odd, final ring. Still unconvinced, but accepting Unohana's warning, Ishida did not continue the argument.

'I am sure none of us do,' he said, turning away and nervously running his fingers through his hair. 'I am sure none of us ever did.' he added, softly. 'We _all_ just participate of our own free will, in everything you deign to allow us to do.'

'The situation is not appropriate for a debate,' Byakuya began, true anger ringing in his voice.

'I could also administer the neurotoxin,' Nemu said, not looking up from the floor. 'I am fast enough to approach and the likelihood that I will receive mortal damage is minimal.'

'Nemu...' Isane breathed, cutting the incredulous silence.

The vice captain of the 12th division looked up, not meeting her friend's glance but clearly seeking to make eye contact with Ishida. She smiled when she did.

'There is no imperative for the neurotoxin to be delivered from a distance,' she said. 'The former Segunda will not be expecting an attack from my behalf either...'

'He'll crush ya, woman,' Grimmjow muttered. 'He won't even look twice.'

'It is irrelevant,' Nemu answered, lightly. 'I can be repaired.'

'Vice-Captain Kurosutchi, this is not a regular course of action,' Byakuya said, drawing a deep breath.

'It is nonetheless one of my most basic functions. Mayuri-sama has employed the tactic numerous times, and the goal has been accomplished each time,' the girl answered; Szayel Aporro emitted a sound that was curiously unlike either a sigh or a chuckle.

'Be that as it may,' Unohana began, adamant refusal in her eyes, 'Captain Kurosutchi is in no condition to conduct the necessary repairs this time, thus...'

'Szayel Aporro Granz should be perfectly able to restore me to a functional state,' Nemu stated, her glance briefly leaving Ishida's and connecting with the Octava's. 'I am certain that all of the body scanning that I was subjected to in the container will be put to good use.'

This time, Szayel outright snickered, but he did not get the time to respond.

'I'll do it,' Ishida said, looking not at the Octava, but through him; Nemu frowned.

'Your behaviour seems to point to the fact that you are not willing to undertake this particular assignment,' she began, a light tone of reproach in her usually inflexible voice.

The Quincy simply shifted his glance and drew one of the Steele Schneider, then distractedly twisted it between his fingers, allowing the soft light in the laboratory to play along its lines.

_Do you imagine the edge of a Steele Schneider is cool, Uryu?_

Indeed, he imagined so.

'I'll do it,' the archer repeated softly.

'You can choose not to,' Nemu said, now in open reproach. 'You are a living human, and, as such, the Gotei's authority does not extend to you.'

She sustained Byakuya's glance with blank, dark eyes. She was not rebelling, Ishida had thought. She was simply stating the procedural truth.

'I know that, Nemu, thank you,' the Quincy said, attempting to smile. He passed between Byakuya and Ichigo, and, with remarkably controlled gestures, placed the Steele Schneider on Szayel Aporro's keyboard. 'It's captain Kuchiki that seems to need a reminder,' he added, turning away.

'Ishida...' Ichigo began, then swallowed his words as the archer waved his fingers in sign that he did not wish to hear anything else.

Not that he would have.

A high pitched electrical noise erupted from the speakers, just as the air in the room suddenly grew dry and tasteless. Drawn by invisible forces, reiatsu particles swept cuttingly outwards, like iron shavings flooding towards an invisible magnet - the Quincy's vision was blurred, and objects lost their contour, trembling and melding into each other. Ishida cringed, but resisted the need of clutching his chest. One pained and shallow breath followed the other, slow, steady and patient, until the colours of the world returned.

'I guess this means the Garganta are re-opened,' Ishida remarked, towards no one in particular.

'Well, indeed,' Szayel shrugged, extending his graceful fingers to point at the screen. Eight glowing dots, arranged at the corners of a perfect octagon had begun glowing brightly. 'For as much as I adore melodrama, I remain quite practically inclined and keenly aware of my...our,' he sweetly corrected, 'objectives. As, I am pleased to notice,' the Octava added, looking in Ishida's direction with undisguised irony, 'are we all.'

The Quincy swallowed his next words, and rushed out on the corridor, rushing past Inoue without noticing the girl's hopefully extended hand.

For a moment, the main room of the laboratory was submerged in silence; Ishida's rapidly fading steps echoed eerily down the long corridor, before the slow hiss of the door closing implacably cut them off.

'Nice job,' Ichigo and Grimmjow growled at the same time, their anger directed at different targets. Byakuya's lower jaw tensed briefly, and the captain of the sixth pressed his fingers to his forehead.

'Vice-Captain Kurosutchi...' he began, softly.

In one fluent motion, Nemu stood to attention, looking oddly defiant.

'Byakuya, I don't think it's time for...'Ichigo began, taking a step forward and casting an uncertain glance at Unohana. The woman waved her fingers, bidding him to wait.

'Please begin replicating the neurotoxin,' Byakuya said, forgetting to remind Ichigo about the proper form of address. 'We shall leave in an hour.'

'Yes, captain Kuchiki,' Nemu responded dryly, taking her seat by Szayel Aporro's side but not sparing him any attention.

Byakuya nodded, almost to himself, then turned towards Unohana, only briefly meeting her glance before shaking his head and turning away. For a moment, he looked furious, and though he did his best to keep his features straight, the lightning that danced in his eyes was impossible to conceal.

'Nii-sama,' Rukia whispered, her words dismissed with a gesture that was neither as cutting nor as controlled as usual.

'One hour,' Byakuya said, in one hot breath, then followed the Quincy out into the corridor; his steps faded in the opposite direction.

Nemu's typing continued, hurried but even, white text casting eerily precise lines of light over her features.

'You know, Nemu-chan,' Szayel Aporro said, distractedly looking over the young woman's shoulder, and watching her initiate the synthesis machine interface, 'I wonder whether you could clarify one thing for me.'

His voice had been just loud enough to catch the other's attention, and his smile could not have been friendlier.

'What is that, Szayel Aporro Granz?' Nemu coldly inquired back.

'Your most generous and selfless actions just now,' the Octava said. 'On whose behalf were they?'

The typing stopped, but Nemu did not look up.

'One could, of course, imagine that it was all for the sake of our pretty Quincy - after all, you and your...maker certainly owe him one, with his grandfather and everything...'

'Who the hell told you that?' Ichigo exploded. 'That's none of your damned...'

'Irrelevant, irrelevant,' Szayel cheerfully said. 'More importantly, Nemu-chan! I am curious whether you realized that Captain Kuchiki's charm would not get him as far with Ishida-kun as yours might? Surely you must have predicted that he would react precisely as he did - and that would be an adorable quirk of your personality's programming...'

'You little snake!' Nelilel Tu exclaimed, taking a wide stride forward. 'You did not only set Ishida up, you set her up too...'

'Not per se, but Ishida-kun and Nemu-chan insist on being predictable.' Szayel shrugged. 'Besides,' he added, 'I truly do believe that Ishida is best placed to deliver the dosage, and I have no interest in seeing Nemu-chan suffering more than she has to. That is where I and Mayuri Kurosutchi vastly differ,' Szayel beamed, patting Nemu's arm.

'He is also far better at programming than you are, Octava Espada Szayel Aporro Granz,' Nemu responded, abruptly pulling her arm away. 'The fact that you cannot make sense of my personality is proof of that.'

'You break my heart,' Szayel whined.

'You have none,' Neliel Tu said dryly.

The pink-haired Arrancar shrugged, and turned away.

* * *

Up next - Time to check up on the score over in the human world. We were...hm, two towers up? (That's if you're cheering for the same camp I'm cheering for!)

Oh! One minor addition: I've put up a poll in my profile regarding Hali's release. I've used mine only for a single line, and it is strikingly different from canon - I have no emotional attachment to it, but I am unsure whether to pull a brutal switch :) So, enjoy this rare democratic moment, and have your say :D The sooner the better, too ^^


	67. Tsunami

* * *

Good evening, everyone.

Thank you for your comments on the chapter past - very kind of you to both read and leave me a line :)

IVIaedhros and Maidros have helped tremendously, as usual, and to them I tip me hat ^_^

It was odd how much I was looking forward to writing a fight scene - can only dare hope that you will enjoy

Chapter 67 - Where I liked Halibel very much. Thank all who voted on the poll, sticking to canon made my life easier :D

Warning: Radical character listing switch ahoy.

* * *

Tenken - Divine Punishment, is Komamura's bankai. Just in case y'all forgot.

* * *

'Iba-san!' Madarame Ikkaku cried; the sound of his voice was drowned by crystalline laughter and rustle of silk; three thin strands of light danced across the jagged edges of the broken wall, before slipping onto the still intact portion below, and furiously clawing through it.

Splinters of rock and dust flew upwards to the heavens and hurdled downwards in equal measure, invading his lungs and blurring his vision - without warning, the serpent's shining, silvery tail whipped forth and wrapped itself around Iba's chest and stomach, jerking him sideways, and pulling him into the crumbling river of rock.

Iba's sunglasses flew to the side, as did the scabbard of his sword. Within a second, the weapon's glint was dulled by blood, and deep red lines crossed silvery scales. Rattling and hissing, Sun-Sun uncoiled her tail, letting the Shinigami drop - for an instant, the gleaming tail-tip disappeared within the rubble only to reappear within less than an eye blink, and mercilessly whip across Iba's chest. The power of the hit sent the Shinigami flying against the wall in a mist of the Arrancar's blood. Not missing another heartbeat, but ignoring the pain which coursed through his body like a river of blades, Madarame Ikkaku forced himself upwards; guided by instinct rather than sight, he broke Iba's fall and brought him securely to the ripped pavement.

In between the clouds of fresh dust, the serpent coiled her tail and Sun-Sun's deceivingly frail figure grew to menacing heights, before vanishing altogether.

The Tenken brought his sword downwards through the mist, splitting the clouds in the precise place where Sun-Sun had stood but a fraction of a second before. The speed and breadth of the gigantic sword scattered the dust, allowing the rays of the sun to shine through and turn the rubble into fine gold dust. There was no reprieve.

Gold dust rose and swirled against the sky, ascending the Tenken's arm and grinding at his joints the solidifying into blue, shimmering shackles which pulled the giant unexpectedly backwards. The suit of armor stumbled, trampling over a four story building as it fought to regain its balance.

'Down there, Sun-Sun,' Halibel commanded. With uncanny reaction speed, the serpent slithered downwards along the wall, cutting a precise, elliptical path through the rubble.

Iba shook himself loose of Madarame's grip and started towards Sun-Sun's target; a single push propelled him half way to the wavering edge which separated the true Karakura Town from the shattered remains of the replica.

'Come on!' he growled over his shoulder. 'Move it!'

Grunting in pain, the broken halves of Houzukimaru almost too heavy to carry, Ikkaku started on Iba's trail in his turn - still, in the grips of despair, it was Iba who made it to the border first, his straight trajectory overtaking Sun-Sun's elliptical descent. He barely had time to position himself before the frail line of enchanted wood poles and angle his sword and deflect the forked, purple tongue of the Cero against the sky. The ray had come too close, however, and the intensity of the light had forced him to close his eyes for a mere instant. He re-opened them only to find himself staring into the Arrancar's face, her rounded, glittering sclera and needle-thin pupils within inches of his. Iba instinctively drew back, almost stumbling over one of the four wooden pillars, then arched back as far as his spine allowed, just barely avoiding Sun-Sun's scaly torso, which slithered rapidly above.

The Arrancar hissed, not in one voice, but in three - her long, silken sleeves fluttered then drew aside, revealing two pointed snakeheads aimed at Iba's chest. Mouths ajar and fangs dripping venom, the two advanced at bewildering speed. With an awkward, desperate gesture, Iba let himself fall onto his back, putting barely enough distance between himself and the creatures' teeth. He brought his sword into a wide arch, yet the snakeheads had already withdrawn out of the blade's reach and Sun-Sun had turned sideways, evading to the right, and circling oddly lower.

'Shit!' Iba exclaimed, suddenly understanding the Hollow's intention.

Hiding her face in her sleeve, Sun-Sun laughed. She maintained her thin, elongated body close to the wooden pillars, and continued advancing rapidly, her contours shimmering oddly as she crossed between reality and illusion. Within a few seconds, and before Iba could collect himself, her tail had completely surrounded the pillars, and she'd brought her torso upwards, preparing to tighten her grip.

As in a nightmare, Iba heard the rustle of scales against wood, then scales against scales, as Sun-Sun coiled her tail about itself; tiny pebbles at the base of the frail wooden structure were dislodged, their movement as terrifying as the movement of mountains. For a moment, as Sun-Sun's human half rose against the clear sky, graceful and terrifying, nothing more than hope stood for the illusion of Karakura Town.

Ikkaku's savage cry erupted from above, piercing and furious - surprised, Sun-Sun looked up. She caught no more than a glimpse of a black kimono as the Shinigami dropped in, past her face and right at the centre of the anaconda's deadly embrace. Not wasting a second, Madarame stepped over his companion's body, extending his arms to his sides and swiftly pressing the broken halves of Houzukimaru's shaft against Sun-Sun's tail. His arms' span further than the line of wooden pillars, and sheer inhuman strength struggled against the serpent's lower body, pushing the coils outwards and away from the pillars that sustained the illusion.

'You again!' Sun-Sun breathed, not in effort, but in surprise. She looked down upon Ikkaku's blood and sweat covered features, silky, dark tresses falling across a pretty pale cheek. 'Your insistence amuses.'

'Iba...san,' Madarame grunted, clenching his teeth and redoubling his efforts; his muscles were tensed to their limits along already cracked bones, but the pain only made his insane grin redouble in turn.

Shaking his head free of the surprise, Iba jumped to his feet. At a loss at how exactly to proceed, but realizing that the only thing which stood between the destruction of the makeshift barrier and Sun-Sun's deathly grip were Ikkaku's already strained and injured arms, the vice-captain of the 7th division grabbed his sword by the hilt and back of the blade, and pressed it into the Arrancar's flesh with both hands and his entire might. He heard the sound of scales breaking under his weapon, not cracking bones, as he had imagined, but shattered glass, and felt the blood flowing along his sword's edge and onto his arm. His hands began slipping, but tightening his grip did not help – darkness squelched disgustingly between his fingers, cold and unpleasant and thick. The blade advanced easily enough, though, for the flesh beneath the scales seemed to have the consistency of butter. Encouraged, Iba pressed forward, inch after glorious inch, gaining stability as it became further and further lodged into Sun-Sun's tail.

The Shinigami looked up in incomprehension.

If she continued her hold at its present pressure, he thought, his sword would cut through her tail soon enough. Only the Zanpakutoh's hilt and the tip of his blade were now visible.

'A few more seconds, Madarame!' Iba shouted, taking a quick look over his shoulder. 'A few more seconds…and…'

Ikkaku nodded, beads of sweat slipping from his bald head to his bare shoulders, the trickle causing a sensation of itching which was almost more unbearable than the aching of his muscles and bones.

It was insane, Ikkaku thought, throwing his head back and laughing at the sky. The first thing he wanted to do once the assault of the silvery tail would be defeated was scratch the back of his neck, scratch so deeply that he'd tear his skin off his flesh.

Then, suddenly, the pressure of the anaconda's tail stopped increasing; neither Shinigami noticed it immediately.

Sun-Sun brought the upper part of her body above them, the silken tresses of her hair drifting gracefully along her cheeks.

'Foolish,' she said.

All pressure stopped, the tail uncoiling with the speed of an unwinding whip; soft flesh turned to iron captured Iba's blade and swiped from his fingers. As if his arm's span and the Arrancar's tail had sustained all his weight, Ikkaku fell helplessly backwards. Sharpened and straightened into a spear, Sun-Sun's lower body hissed above his chest; no warnings could be shouted, as no breath could be drawn.

The sun's reflection upon the Anaconda's crystalline scales as the tail tip went clearly through Iba's chest cast a myriad dancing speckles of rainbow amid the dull mist of blood.

'Cero,' Sun-Sun hissed. The word turned into an incomprehensible, strangled scream.

The Tenken 's gigantic iron glove caught her in an inescapable grip and swiftly pulled her backwards; each of its fingers was almost as thick as the Arrancar's entire body, and the armored protection trapped her from collarbone to below where her knees might have been. Despite her quick attempt at lengthening her shape and slithering out from the vice's hold, Sun-Sun was pulled helplessly backwards and lifted towards the heavens from which the Tenken descended.

Still, though the grip was tight enough to prevent Sun-Sun's escape, it could not crush her frame; focusing all her powers into extending her body, the Arrancar forced all of the muscular rings which her frame was made of to shrink to their smallest possible diameter. Her body grew twice in length, and half in width, the lower parts of her tail whipping furiously and inordinately at the Bankai's bankai's fingers. To no avail. The gigantic samurai lifted her in front of its mask, and spoke in a surprisingly soft voice.

'You have no ribcage for me to crush,' Komamura calmly spoke, as his captive's wriggling grew increasingly desperate. 'But you still have a spine.'

The tip of the Tenken's thumb lodged itself under Sun-Sun's chin, attempting to flick it upwards. The girl turned her head to the side, desperately seeking to slither out between a loose finger or at least get a grip to help her push herself up. Yet the avoidance of danger was only temporary, and unless outside help intervened, her efforts were futile.. Komamura loosened his bankai's grip just enough to let her slip a foot lower , her chin becoming lodged over the bankai's index as her shoulders were trapped by the middle finger, and the iron thumb descended once more, pressing on the top of her head.

For seconds that might as well have been centuries, Sun-Sun's world was reduced to blankness, pressure, and smell of cold iron, and though only black metal surrounded her from all sides, searing, stifling white seemed to invade both her vision and her nostrils. When she felt herself being flung against the sky, clouds and clear blue rippling across her vision at bewildering speed, Sun-Sun guessed that she was dead.

She was not.

Madarame looked up in surprise as the Tenken's arm's began flailing wildly against some invisible opponent. The samurai swung its sword to the left, as if to parry, and its arm was pushed far to the side, before recovering and swinging upwards. The bankai, Ikkaku abruptly understood, had let go of Sun-Sun because it needed its left arm free as counterbalance and aid – indeed, it brought its left hand up to sustain its right forearm. The suit of armor creaked and bent over, then stumbled backwards – finally understanding what must have been going on, Madarame forced himself to look down, not towards the bankai's dark figure, but lower, towards Komamura himself.

He caught a brief glimpse of sparks flying through the dust and heard the unmistakable sound of swords clashing. Drawing on his last strength, Ikkaku hoisted himself up, propping himself on Hozukimaru's speared half; the iron tip sliced through his fingers – he did not notice.

Instead, he caught a glimpse of a white figure which disengaged from Komamura's and shot upwards at bewildering speed, to intercept another sleek, white figure and break its fall – to Ikkaku's surprise, Komamura himself seemed relieved by the momentary respite.

'Tetsuzaemon?' the fox-headed captain asked, in his first breath.

'He…'Ikakku began, so softly that he could not truly hear himself.

But that was alright, Madarame dazedly thought. He did not truly want to hear himself uttering the words.

'I'm still here,' Iba responded. 'Still here,' he repeated, his voice as pleasantly surprised as as incredulous as Ikkaku's glance.

Before Halibel and Sun-Sun landed in between the three shinigami, sending a fifty foot and almost solid looking pillar of dust towards the sky, Iba had the feeling that his captain looked pleased.

* * *

'Why didn't you call for help?'

Sun-Sun blinked and attempted to answer, but her too dry throat refused to obey her, and her thoughts fluttered about inside her head, like illusive silk strands that refused to be knotted together. Though she's heard the stone cracking beneath her, her own landing had been as soft as if she had not weighed more than a feather. She looked at her mistress' features and attempted to smile.

_You are so beautiful, Halibel-sama…_

It was the only thought that caught shape, and in truth, Sun-Sun realized, it was the only thought that made sense, in her revealed presence. With the exception of her sword arm, Tia Halibel seemed to have no sharp contour, the bone white, opaque armor which protected her throat and covered her breasts and stomach, descending over her thighs, set off beautifully against the glistening golden skin., a single, continuous and audacious curve, steel wrought muscles under perfect, silken cover...

Eyes filled with a mixture of reproach and concern ran over the Fraccion's body, followed by the Espada's small left hand. Sun-Sun's cold skin shivered under the hot touch, which made all pain and all memory thereof vanish as if it had never been.

'You should have said something,' Halibel said, sternly – her rounded lips were not drawn thin in scorn, however. 'You are not alone. Don't fight as if you were.'

'I'm sorry, Halibel-sama,' Sun-Sun whispered, lowering her glance.

'Don't be sorry. Be better,' the Espada responded. For a second, the corners of her pretty, full lips drew into a smile that was awkward for lack of practice, but carried warmth nonetheless. 'Stand,' she commanded.

She unwrapped her arms from her Faccion's shoulders, and let Sun-Sun stand; the tempest of dust and rabble had begun to clear, and the contours of the Shinigami's bankai lumbered above, through the mists. 'Besides, this was my failure, not yours,' Halibel suddenly said, looking up. 'You were doing well, in your part. I approached the battle with the wrong tactic. The armor set is too big for me to attack head-on. It compensates for my speed by its size – it needs only a fraction of the effort to cover twice as much distance…And for what is worse, the Shinigami that controls it from below is free to watch me attentively and not wounded by my attacks on his sword's spirit.'

'Should I try to distract him?' Sun-Sun asked, coiling her tail and straightening. 'The colossus above follows his movements…'

'No,' Halibel briefly refuted. 'Aizen-sama's goal is bringing the true human town back and gathering the hundred thousand souls to generate the Ouken. You need to focus on bringing down that barrier.'

The two Arrancar slowly took position back to back, as the layer of dust which had protected them from the Shinigami's sight thinned.

'I missed,' Sun-Sun said, with obvious self disappointment, once she noticed that Iba had managed to prop himself up on his arms. She slinked closer to her Espada – much to her amazement, Halibel took a small step back in her turn.

'It is inconsequential,' the Espada said. 'You've disarmed and seriously injured him. The other one is not looking good either. You should be able to get past them momentarily. I shall keep the captain busy…'

'Bankai!' Madarame Ikkaku shouted, shoving Hozukimaru's broken halves together, and causing red, scalding light to ripple through the weapon's shaft.

'Alright, we can scratch that plan,' Halibel calmly remarked.

Sun-Sun slithered close; so close that, for a moment, their shoulders touched and despite the fear that ran through her veins, Sun-Sun felt oddly, inexplicably happy.

* * *

'Madarame…' Iba said.

Despite the gaping wound in his stomach, he'd somehow managed to sound amused; in turn, Ikkaku was anything but.

How things changed, he thought, sensing that Hozukimaru's energy was coursing through his muscles and renewing their strength. But a few hours ago, he'd renewed his resolve of not showing his true strength to anyone. Not that he'd worried about it too much – no one would be worthy of his true strength, and the Gotei always won its battles. This one should have been no different, no different than any other battle where one could win and keep one's secrets, so that things could continue exactly as they had…

Had that been but a few hours ago?

How then could it all seem so very, very remote…

It must have been because victory was always short – no more than the swing of a blade and a gush of blood, if one was lucky all within the rush a battle that compressed time to a single heartbeat…Defeat, Madarame Ikkaku had discovered, had a much different taste: one that lasted far longer, and that stretched each bile laden moment to its very limits. It made one thoroughly realize that things could never truly be as before, that things had already changed, and that it was not victory or defeat that made a difference in the end.

The only thing that made a difference was the fact that there had been a battle in the first place, and how long the battle lasted. That Yumichika was injured, that Iba could have been killed, and that single victories did not matter as much as speed if the line of opponents was endless.

'Sure hope the lady 'ere's gonna keep Captain Konamura busy enough not to notice, eh!' Ikkaku shouted over his shoulder, more to let Iba know that he appreciated his bravery than because he'd actually meant it.

With the swipe of Sun-Sun's tail, Ikkaku had discovered that he did not care about keeping any more secrets.

Which was good; Hozukimaru's unwound blades could not have been hidden by anything.

* * *

'Halibel-sama!' Sun-Sun exclaimed. 'The armor is cracked!'

She'd shouted the words on top of her lungs – partly because the noise that accompanied the bald Shinigami's release was horrendous, but also because she'd needed all of her resolve to utter the phrase.

If she had not shouted it out, she would never have said it – her heart was threatening to rip through her ribcage, with fear, but also with excitement and expectation. It was not like her to even dream of telling Halibel-sama what to do, normally, she would not even have dared dream of it, and she was half sure that once the Tercera turned her glance to her, she'd freeze and keep quiet, but…

'What are you thinking?' Halibel asked, softly.

The attentive tone of her voice had disconcerted Sun-Sun more than the brief rebuttal that she had expected; the Fraccion blushed and swallowed dry.

'Go on,' Halibel encouraged. 'But make it quick. What did you see?'

'The armor is cracked,' Sun-Sun shyly repeated, her tail circling about Halibel's feet, as she lowered herself to match the Tercera's height. 'Not large cracks, but…maybe if you could manipulate Tiburon's water wave inside it, and then push it to Hirvendo, you could make the thing break apart from within…'

Halibel considered the idea, analyzing the armor through narrowed eyes.

'That is not bad.' She said. 'And it should work very fast, provided the armour is actually hollow. It should be, it would be too heavy to move so fast otherwise. Any suggestions on entry points?'

'Not the face,' Sun-Sun answered. 'Dog breath,' she added, before she could stop herself; once more thwarting her Fraccion's expectation, Halibel smiled slightly before reproachfully shaking her head.

'Sun-Sun,' she scolded. 'That was worthy of Apache.'

'Apologies,' Sun-Sun whispered, hiding her blush in her sleeve.

'Very well. Distract the fox for a moment. Don't fight, run. Neither of them is fast.' Halibel commanded. 'Then go get Apache.'

'Halibel-sama!' the Fraccion breathed. 'I do not wish to leave you alone…'

'Go get Apache and hurry back to me, then.'

Sun-Sun hesitated, and her superior's eyes narrowed dangerously.

'I do not care whether their fight is finished.' Halibel hissed. 'Lilinette has Stark. I only have you .'

She propelled herself upwards, leaving no further room for debate.

* * *

The fury and speed of the Anaconda's attack left Konamura slightly disconcerted – he'd expected that once the dust was cleared, she would once more turn on Madarame. Instead, Sun-Sun'd lounged at him from a great distance, covering the thirty yards at blistering speed. She turned to the side, avoiding Hozukimaru's crushing blade, which Ikkaku had hurled on her track. The blade hissed by her, its red horsehair whipping across the iron, then, the too short length of chain caused it to come crashing down.

Opening her way with a Cero that forced Konamura to parry by bringing his sword across his chest, Sun-Sun maneuvered her long body around his figure, staying well further away than an arm's length. Confused by the avoidance of what had seemed like a head-on attack, the Shinigami half turned, leaving his back and shoulders exposed to Sun-Sun's whipping tail. The strike surprised him, but it was not enough to make him lose his balance – he spun again, the shadow of the armour above turning with him – and brought his Zanpakuthoh down blindly, managing to scratch the Anaconda's tail.

Indifferent, Sun-Sun slithered upwards on the armor's leg, catching a glimpse of Halibel's sword before the Espada completely vanished behind the Tenken's shoulders. When she thought she had gained enough height, the Anaconda somersaulted backwards, giggling as Ikkaku's furious kick connected with the Tenken's armor, making it vibrate.

It is hollow, Sun-Sun thought, hoping that Halibel herself had heard the sound.

She did not get to enjoy her evasion for long. Pressing the two hand-blades of his weapon together, Ikkaku swung the dragon crest forwards and upwards, turning it into a massive, cutting flail; he was close now, so hoping to run out of reach of the chain's length was out of the question. Sun-Sun gritted her teeth and focused her Hierro, waiting for the chain to unwind, so that she could get a better grasp of where it would land. The direction of the swing, Sun-Sun rightly thought, had been determined at the moment of the swing – the Shinigami would not be able to alter it in the least now, thus, Sun-Sun thought, trying to slow the race of her thoughts, patience, only patience would serve.

It almost did.

As the dragon crest slid within inches of her body, Sun-Sun arched abruptly, shifting a single three foot long portion of her tail out of the blade's reach. Not completely, though – the sharp edge of the weapon's central section managed ever so brief contact with the Arrancar's scales. Quick as lightning, and as if the original thrust had only been intended to ascertain Sun-Sun's position, Ikkaku rotated the blade sideways, bringing it flat, fully nestling it in the coil of the serpent's tail and forcing Sun-Sun to drape herself about the cutting semi-circle.

For as fast as Sun-Sun was when she moved forward, her sideways movements were slow and impaired; she could only shift to the side by one body width in one go, and that would not be enough, not nearly enough to get her out of the blade's reach. Worse of all, attempting to straighten would have given Ikkaku greater space for maneuver and sufficient momentum to slice her in half along her length in a single move.

'La Gota!' came the command, from above; knowing what was to follow, Sun-Sun snapped straight and rolled to the side.

Halibel's aim had been so precise that not a single droplet of the glistening, concentrated waterfront touched Sun-Sun's body. Instead, it pushed Ikkaku's blade to the ground without recourse, and though hot, stinging vapour emerged at the contact between the blazing red dragon crest, consuming more than half of Halibel's attack, the oversized circular axe hurled towards the ground, dragging Ikkaku along with it.

She'd nonetheless given away her position; Komamura looked up, but his realization came too late. Majestic and fluid, Cascada's pillar of water both rose and descended to unite earth and sky, oceans of destruction and pressure gathering about the Tenken and swallowing him in the blink of an eye.

The attack had an unexpectedly devastating effect on Komamura – his reiatsu flared red and desperate for a moment, only to be overtaken by a blinding yellow glow. The light forced him straight and pushed his shoulders apart to their full width, making it look as if he'd been on fire; faint, panicked gushes of red grew within the yellow blaze, just as Komamura's shortness of breath became apparent. Metallic light gleamed over the column of water, steady pressure pushing white, ethereal foam upwards, rather than downwards.

Not knowing whether to be grateful or surprised, Sun-Sun looked up, and felt her heart latched in her throat. Halibel's entire figure glowed with concentration, unruly blonde tresses whipping at her shoulders. Tiburron's blade seemed almost dull when compared to the rest of her skin, and it vibrated slightly. A clear droplet of water slid off its edge, catching the sunlight – one, followed by another, then another…

And that, Sun-Sun knew, was not supposed to happen.

Komamura's reiatsu was flaring again, though it was not really resurging – slowly, breaking into strands and trickles, the yellow glow slithered about him, slipping under his armor and writhing about his nostrils and ears. The column of water above diminished, and the receding waves showed that the same had been occurring to the Shinigami's bankai, the myriad of streams running across the iron and disappearing within.

It's working, Sun-Sun thought, jolting up in a sudden surge of elation.

But then, she realized, elation quickly turning to fright, Halibel-sama was not supposed to wince. The trickle down the side of Tiburron had turned into a deluge, which showed that Halibel's concentration and control over Cascada were getting increasingly difficult to maintain. Though it was still weak and clearly out of control, the Shinigami's reiatsu was fighting the invasion for every inch, and Cascada had never been intended for anything remotely like this…

Apache, Sun-Sun reminded herself. I must get Apache.

Twisting about herself and whipping her tail to build momentum, the Fraccion darted away, slipping underneath Ikkaku's blade and completely ignoring him as she passed.

Madarame Ikkaku ignored her in turn, and the two blasted by each other in opposite directions, red scalding energy rippling through the tubular trail of the Arrancar's movement . The Shinigami continued on his way, and, for a split second, Sun-Sun considered doing the same – in the end, Halibel-sama's orders had been clear: distract the fox and fetch Apache. It was not for her to question…

Nonetheless, Sun-Sun stopped, turning around in a wide arch.

And this time, it was not only her breath that hitched in her throat, but also her heart.

Madarame Ikkaku was rapidly advancing on the Tercera; her eyes still closed, her brow tense and furrowed, Halibel had not moved in what seemed like eons, her entire energy focused on controlling Tiburron's waves. Cascada had all but faded now, reduced to a swirling, foaming pillar, and the shimmering sheet which covered the Tenken like a thin, translucent second skin. Komamura's reiatsu had re-emerged, almost in full, and though Sun-Sun understood that Halibel's assault was almost complete, she also understood that the vital second between the moment when Halibel broke her on concentration on Cascada and initiated Hirviedo would leave her superior vulnerable. Even worse, if the Shinigami with the mad eyes made it to Halibel and succeeded in breaking her concentration before Cascada's attack was complete, then both Shinigami would be at full strength within seconds…

Without second thought, Sun-Sun furiously whipped her tail from side to side, propelling herself over hundreds of yards, over and under obstacles, and catching up with Ikkaku by sheer force of will. She stopped him but a few feet before he'd reached Halibel, and desperately pulled him back just as Hiozukimaru whipped forth, aimed at the Tercera's stomach – the blow should not have struck her, it was against all reason, yet the accursed chain seemed to stretch, just as time stretched, seconds melding into minutes and years as inches spun feet, then miles, just to scrape across Halibel's stomach before being forcefully pulled back.

Halibel opened her eyes, only to see Sun-Sun and Madarame fall, naught but steel and light gripped in coils and fangs. The Anaconda's body had wrapped itself around Madarame, passing between his legs and pulling them upwards, the tail tip whipping furiously at his chest and seeking to trap his arms. In turn, Ikkaku swung his blades from left to right, encountering flesh and drawing blood at each swing. Sun-Sun's resolve din not falter – the viper's fangs connected with the side of Madarame's neck, and she wrapped her mobile arm around his neck and face, removing breath and vision alike. Hopelessly entangled with each other, neither one willing to let go, the two tumbled from the height of the Tenken's shoulder, crashing through all in their way.

'Sun-Sun…' Halibel thought, rather than said, but the failing was sufficient.

As the last of the fluid sheet disappeared through the cracks in the Tenken's armour, Komamura's reiatsu roared high, and his eyes flew open, gigantic breath flooding into his lungs and filling his chest.

'Way of Binding 31: Shitotsu Sansen!' Komamura howled, his arms opening wide over his head, then coming back together at the height of his stomach.

One of the three fangs connected with Halibel's right thigh; she grunted but did not move – the second ripped at her left ankle, pulling her downwards as the third passed through her shoulder, jerking her up. Her grasp on Tiburron faltered, for a second.

The Tercera tensed against the hold, but only succeeded in tearing her muscles further on the cutting edges of light.

'Did you mean to keep me in place?' she asked, looking down at the Shinigami.

Komamura gritted his fangs, and Halibel moved again, more decisively. Blood ran across her shoulder and hip, flooding over Tiburron's blade.

'It looks like you have succeeded,' Halibel remarked, tilting her head to the side.

The black deluge over the white bone continued as her eyes narrowed; the deluge broke into streams, then dissolved over the bone, seeping into the white and running backwards, as the Tercera Espada threw her head back and laughed, three braided blonde locks reaching as low as her waist.

'The question is,' Tia Halibel said, 'do I need to move to destroy you? I think not.'

The Shinigami growled.

Below, amid torn trees and shattered buildings, Madarame Ikkaku rose to his feet, blood dripping from the sides of his neck and from his shredded arms. Hiozukimaru's chain, thick, hot and unyielding, snapped about Sun-Sun's frail throat as the Shinigami pulled the weapon's blades to the side. The mere motion should have been enough to crush her; it barely stopped short.

Struggling to clear his vision, Madarame looked to Komamura for orders; pupils bloodshot and dilated, the captain was in no shape to provide any guidance. The Bakkudo had pinned her, but it did not seem to do much else; the blood trickle from her shoulder and thigh had stopped. Clear blue water streamed through his clenched teeth at each pained breath.

'Stop your attack,' Ikkaku growled towards Halibel. 'Whatever you intend to do…Stop it now. Else she…'

Halibel looked down, along the blackened length of the Tenken's arm.

She could hear the water rumbling within, and had already noticed that through the intricate motions of the Bakkudo, the Tenken had not followed its masters' movements. The armor was frozen, and, for better or worse, it was under her power. She just needed one more moment.

'Stop your attack, Espada,' Ikkaku growled again.

He jerked his arms to the side, ever so slightly, forcing Sun-Sun's glance across Halibel's. And Halibel understood well enough.

Whether the Shinigami captain would be killed or not, his Bankai would be destroyed, and if Ressurectiones were anything to go by, once his Bankai was crushed, the Shinigami would be useless to his companions.

_You thought well, Sun-Sun…You thought too well._

The question was simple.

If she did not renounce her attack on Komamura, the other one, the one with the insane gleam in his eyes, would kill Sun-Sun.

Halibel looked down.

Inexplicably, despite the pressure on her throat, Sun-Sun smiled and let her arms slip by her side, slowly, gracefully, making things easier.

_You fought well, too._

'I am proud of you, Sun-Sun,' Halibel said.

With her Hivierdo, Komamura's bankai was torn asunder; the iron tore and bent under inward pressure, bubbling as if had been a mere sheet of plastic stretched over a fire before thinning and breaking at the seams, and scattering itself into fine, cutting sheets.

* * *

Up next - Everyone gets serious.


	68. With a Whimper

Good afternoon all!

This one took me a little while to write, but I hope it will be worth the wait :) The manga gave me a lot of heartache, this week...Would it not be strange and sad if Szayel Aporro's fight would be longer than Stark's? Heh...

As usual, Maidros and Iviaedhros are awesome, as are y'all - many thanks for reading and commenting! Here's to hoping we can do our two-in-one anti-heroes some justice.

Chapter 68 - Where we bring in what Tite Kubo doesn't wanna bring in. Namely, consequences.

* * *

The shadow extended over the archer's figure, elegant and eerily immobile, like that of a statue. Ishida had not even taken note of it, at first; he'd been too immersed in his own thoughts, and the contemplation of the floor, which, after quite a few long minutes of intense scrutiny, still failed to reveal the answers the archer sought.

It was likely, Neliel Tu thought, that he would continue to stare at the floor until it was time to go. Not surprising, the Arrancar thought, taking a tentative step forward. He had nothing left to say and no one to say it to even if he did.

She hesitated for a second longer, wondering if she'd startle him more if she simply walked up and sat by his side, or if she warned him of his presence beforehand. She decided for the former, but made sure that her steps were loud enough.

Ishida did not look up until she had sat down, and even then, he took almost a minute before acknowledging her presence. Respecting the Quincy's obvious longing for silence, Neliel Tu contented herself on giving him a small, reassuring and sad smile. Ishida did not return it; he simply looked the former Tercera in the eyes for a brief moment, then returned to staring at the floor, with an equally blank stare.

'Thank you,' Neliel said, softly.

'For what?' he asked, not looking up.

'For being the only person who doesn't want to kill him,' she answered, simply and kindly.

The archer met her gaze for another brief moment, then once more lowered his chin.

'A lot of good that does,' Ishida replied.

Neliel's smile gathered warmth.

'Still,' she shrugged, 'thanks.'

They sat by each others' side for a few long minutes, neither eager to speak; Neliel stretched out her legs, and Ishida leaned his head on the wall behind, considering her through half-lidded eyes. Her presence, he thought, as the Arrancar caught his glance and smiled, was comforting in the same way that Inoue's was. Neither of the two was likely to harbor any hidden thoughts, and both radiated the sort of confidence that seemed to make them think that even in the darkest of times, the universe conspired in their favour; an odd sort of strength that always seemed to be focused on comforting others.

'Stark always says that you can make small talk with anyone, but there are very few people you can be comfortably silent with,' Neliel said, smiling. 'Though, I am sure that in his case, it's always that he hopes to steal a few winks between exchanges,' she added, her smile growing mischievous. 'Meaningful silences don't really work with me, though, I am really chatty by nature,' Neliel shrugged. 'A bit simple minded, I think.'

'I don't think that,' Ishida responded, sensing the odd ring in the Arrancar's voice. 'You're just honest about your moods, I guess.'

The former Tercera shrugged, as if she had doubted there was a difference.

'Do you know him well?' Ishida asked, for lack of a better question. 'I mean, don't get me wrong, if you don't want to talk about him, it is fine, but I…he's had a very strange effect on me,' he said, lifting his head and looking to the side. 'I normally don't take to people that fast, and certainly not to the point of doubting blaring truths. This man has engineered a very complex situation and the betrayed us and left us to our fates when he had the most minor doubt about its success. In exchange, he has increased his own strength and is employing it in the human world against the Shinigami, of course, but also against human souls. I should have no doubts about this. Even…even if I forgot everything about Shinigami and their wars, I should still be thinking that if what he has told me is true, he's been the cause of one of the most damaging events in my clan's history, and that his betrayal then…'

'But you don't think that, do you?' Neliel asked.

'That's the odd thing,' Ishida said, shaking his head. 'I think that, but I don't feel that.'

'I don't find that strange at all,' the Arrancar shrugged. 'I get a sense that whatever was done, was done for true love. Just like now…and things that are done for true love are always forgivable…aren't they?'

The Quincy's suddenly intense glance surprised her, and she shifted uncomfortably, not knowing that Ishida had been looking at her, and seeing nothing but an image of Szayel Aporro's thumb caressing the back of her hand. He blinked it away resolutely.

'In any event,' she reiterated, 'there are three things that are always true about Stark: he's distrustful to the point of paranoia, very protective of himself and Lilinette, and hates Shinigami. He really, really hates them.'

'On the other hand, though,' Neliel Tu continued, 'he doesn't make a secret out of any of it. Honest, in a way – I'm never unclear about his motives. Whenever he does something, anything, you can always trace it back to one of those three roots…And I think I pushed all three buttons all at once.' She sighed.

'You cannot blame yourself for everything, Neliel Tu,' Ishida refuted, dryly.

'It's with comings and goings, on this one.' she shrugged. 'I pushed too hard. It's like, I don't know, insisting that a life-long vegetarian tries meat. Sure, for you it's not really a leap, and you don't think that it should be much of a leap with the other person either, but I think that in the end, the only result is that the person will never come around for dinner again.'

'That's a strange parallel,' Ishida unwillingly chuckled. The Arrancar blushed.

'Yeah, told you I was a bit simple minded,' she said.

'No,' the Quincy refuted, now finding the embarrassment in her voice jarring. 'That was not simple, it was a simplification. It's different. You extracted the essential and stated it in the common denominator, without losing any of the facts: one should never push other people to act against their own beliefs, especially if the beliefs are so deep rooted and old that they turn into personality traits…Eh, see,' he chucked again, 'you were much better at explaining it than I was.'

'Do you really remember nothing of what was…before?' he asked; Neliel decisively shook her head.

'No,' she responded. 'Why do you ask?'

'Because your observation now was very telling.' Ishida said. 'It said a lot about where and especially when you lived.'

'Eh?' the Arrancar laughed.

'Sure,' the boy began explaining. 'You mentioned the vegetarian thing casually enough for me to think that you found the concept familiar, if somewhat of an oddity; that has to be reasonably modern.'

'I guess,' Neliel shrugged; the smile clung to her features for a moment longer. 'But, yeah,' she said, softly. 'I pressed all of Stark's buttons all at once, though I knew what all of them did. I don't know, I just wanted him to…'

She shook her head.

'…do something that is hard for him. Trust.'

'The Shinigami?' Ishida bitterly chuckled.

'No,' Neliel Tu said, softly. 'Anyone. Maybe I was hoping that he would trust me…my judgment of the situation, of Ichigo…I did not think that it would be such a leap, I thought that I could push him to take it and he'd thank me after…I thought that if he took this one leap, then, maybe he could start to trust again, and he'd stop being so very alone. Life...existence,' she corrected in a whisper, 'is so empty without trust.'

Ishida shook his head.

_The road to hell…_, the boy thought.

'To be frank, Neliel Tu, after Kuchiki's actions, there was little hope of trust. Maybe it was not even Kuchiki's actions, it was just…What do you know about the Quincy wars?' he asked.

'Nothing,' she replied. 'I don't even know what the Quincy are, other than that you are one and that Stark was one too, which I only learned now. Why?'

'Because, ironically, I think Stark's intuition may have been correct all along. I don't think the Gotei will let any of you survive this. They certainly made sure none of us did…Do you not think of that at all?'

'I do,' she shrugged. 'I am not that simple minded,' Neliel smiled. 'But, I think Unohana is a nice woman.'

'She is, for whatever it's worth,' Ishida said. 'That does not really matter, though, Neliel. She makes no decisions.'

'Yeah, but where there is one nice person, there are bound to be more nice people. Reason to hope, no? Besides, there would be no other choice other than rejoining Aizen, which would be inconceivable. In my case, at least.' Neliel answered. 'Besides,' she added, 'if you think about it, they'd really have no reason to destroy us all - we have done nothing to them. We just merely exist, in the same way that we always have…'

'That's true to an extent,' Ishida said, pensively. 'By all rights, you should be in more trouble with me than with them, or at least in Hueco Mundo.'

'How so?' Neliel frowned.

'The Quincy do not think Hollows should exist. We…I, was taught that whatever the reasons for a soul becoming tainted, the taint must not be allowed to re-enter the cycle. I would be the one who should kill you all without a second thought. And I am not ashamed to admit that I came here with that notion that I would do just that.'

'What changed?' the Arrancar smiled, tilting her head to the side.

'You are not Hollow,' he answered. 'You're something else. I would not know what, but…'

'So what is this taint?' Neliel asked, leaving him disconcerted. 'I mean, what is it that ordinary Hollow have that we don't? Or what do we have that they don't? Human shape?' she prompted, with unexpected but warm irony, when the Quincy's answer tarried. 'Articulated speech?'

'Maybe,' Ishida chuckled, scratching the back of his head and admitting he'd been caught on the wrong foot. 'I haven't developed a full philosophy around it yet.'

'Dodging the question?' Neliel inquired, smiling mischievously.

'No, no, I know what I feel. I just cannot find the right word,' the Quincy answered. 'The first word that popped to mind,' he started to explain, 'was conscience. But then I thought of Szayel Aporro…'

'Yeah, that theory went out the window.' The Arrancar shrugged, smiling wryly.

'Then, I thought – reason, but, again, there's Grimmjow. He has very little of that. Well, to be truthful, he's just like Kurosaki on that account,' Ishida sighed. 'Both of them seem to act only on instinct; it's just that Kurosaki is less homicidal, but, if you take away Kurosaki's good intentions, he's Grimmjow with a different base.'

'Ichigo didn't mean to put you on the spot…' Neliel began, hotly.

'I know he didn't,' Ishida answered. 'He just cannot help himself.'

He looked away for a moment.

'I think I see,' the Arrancar said. 'All of us have at least something of what you use to define yourself as human, and at the same time all of us are missing a piece – Szayel has reason, but no conscience or feelings; Grimmjow has feelings and some sort of a conscience but no reason; Stark has all three, but none of them matter without trust and hope, so...'

'I can't think anything is missing with you,' Ishida off-handedly offered. 'Nor with Lilinette…'

'Maybe it's less in-your-face,' Neliel shrugged. 'I am not sure either, but I must be missing something too.'

'I am unsure…'

'Well, I'm here, am I not?' she matter-of-factly stated. 'Besides, the point is not what we are missing, but what we all have in common that makes us human to you, and that differentiates us from lesser Hollow. You cannot find what it is, and since you think Hollow have this taint, whatever it is, and we do not, you can't really place the taint. So…Maybe you're wondering if there is no such thing in the first place? Maybe,' Neliel continued, 'lesser Hollow are just, you know, splinters of humanity, in whatever base form, and then, as we evolve through Gillian to Vasto Lorde, we put together enough pieces to make a full picture. It's not that humanity is absent in lesser Hollow, it's just that you can't really see itit. You know, without human form and articulated speech.'

'Also,' she continued, 'could be that the whole point of Hueco Mundo and Hollow evolution is that we gather whatever splinters of humanity there are in lesser Hollow and reform our souls, and then, when we re-enter the cycle…'

'Questioning my entire life outlook right now was mightily helpful, Neliel Tu,' Ishida bitterly joked. 'That was exactly what I needed.'

'Sorry! Didn't mean to cross your philosophical wires!' Neliel laughed; the clear and innocent sound of her laughter made it all even worse. 'Ignore me if I said anything silly or that offended you.' She apologized, kindly. 'You shouldn't pay attention to me, I don't understand any of this stuff anyway.'

'I thought I did,' the archer responded; he took a deep breath and looked away.

Neliel nodded, and looked away in her turn.

'This is very hard for you,' she noted, softly. 'You hate them at least as much as Stark does.'

'I am unsure,' the archer said, looking at the ceiling. 'About the dimensions of the hatred, not about the hatred, mind,' he added, with a bitter grin. 'The problem is,' he brought himself to continue, 'that I know Kuchiki is right. The very notion of it makes me ill, but I must, nonetheless, admit it. If he is not stopped, Aizen will kill countless humans and rob them of their souls; were I to stand to the side and allow that, I would go against Quincy principles too – we protect living and spiritually unaware humans, we do not sacrifice them to any greater cause or order, on the notion that they will be reborn anyway, we simply…And even so, I still…'

He interrupted himself once more, and stared at the floor.

'Why can I not hate this man?' Ishida whispered. 'He says himself that there is very little left of what he once was…Am I that easily fooled?'

'Well if you are,' Neliel smiled, 'there's two of us. I know that coming from me it's not too much of a comfort, but, hey…'

'Why do you keep saying that?' the Quincy frowned, shaking his head and raising his chin to meet her glance. 'You have not said anything even remotely simple minded since you've…well, eh, grown up.'

'It just comes to mind,' she apologetically whispered. 'Sorry. Listen, Ishida…If it had not been for the past half hour, and Szayel Aporro, and Kuchiki…What would you have done? About Stark, I mean.'

'I don't know. I was trying very hard to not think about it. I guess it all would have depended on the extent of the damage Aizen has managed to cause while we've been trapped here. If he's clashed with the Shinigami above an illusion of a town, then all the best to them; I have this urge to say that I would have stood to the side and watch them clean up their own mess. Just for once…I bet that will be my father's superior moral ground on this one,' the archer continued, again leaning his head on the wall. 'Stark's too – and they would not be wrong. But, Neliel Tu, Stark fights to win. Even I can tell that; he did not rejoin Aizen with the hopes of seeing them clash, he did so because he thinks that if Aizen wins him and Lilinette will be safe for a while longer…'

'That is very hard for me to believe,' Neliel Tu said, flatly, and with far more assurance than Ishida had ever heard in her voice before. 'That would go against rules one and three of Stark behavior, you see – never trust, and hate Shinigami. I've known Stark in a time when the ranks of the Espada did not look like they do today, in a time before Szayel Aporro and Halibel... I had my own doubts back then, which, I suppose, made Aizen look the other way when Nnoitra and Szayel played their nastytrick on me. My doubts were caused by the slaughter of other Hollow in our search for the remaining Vasto Lorde; I understood why they needed to be found, but I did not getwhy we had to wipe out entire colonies in the process. In hindsight, I guess this should have told me that Aizen had no intention of doing anything that could be considered long term from our perspective…'

'He was wiping out your food supplies,' Ishida whispered.

'Well, that,' Neliel agreed, 'but also, keeping other folks from coming up. Without Hollow colonies, there can be no evolution to Gillian, or Adjucha, and definitely no other Vasto Lorde. I did not think much about that, I just thought of the slaughter.'

'I'd wager my bow that this was what Stark thought, though.' The Quincy said.

'Yeah. He never spelled it out to me – that would have gone against rule number one, but, there was always fine, double edged irony. A hint of suspicion, a shadow of a doubt,' she added, smiling. 'I doubt Stark thinks that Aizen will tolerate that in the long term. On the other hand, for one who has no trust and no hope, the medium term offers some room for maneuver.'

'While Kuchiki's approach, by definition, was as immediate as a guillotine,' Ishida sighed.

'From where I stand, I think one cannot punish a trapped wolf for biting one's extended hand, even if one is just trying to set it free,' Neliel whispered, trailing off thoughtfully. 'Meh,' she added in a sarcastic tone, abundantly laced with an undertone ofsadness, 'I think I've found your taint.'

'Eh?' Ishida frowned, in utter surprise; the Arrancar did not hurry to answer.

'Yeah,' Neliel Tu nodded. 'I just thought of it now, as I was speaking…Maybe what you refer to as taint is the indiscriminate triumph of survival instinct over love, compassion and reason.'

The Quincy took a deep breath, and closed his eyes once more.

'Indiscriminate being the key concept,' he said, softly. 'Because, otherwise…'

The Arrancar shrugged and remained silent for a moment longer, drifting into her own thoughts.

'You are planning to help Stark, are you not, Neliel Tu?' he asked.

She drew a deep breath, smiled and nodded.

'Him and Lilinette,' Neliel added, with far more assurance than he had ever heard in her voice. 'Would you? Help them, if you had a choice?'

'I am unsure there is one,' Ishida responded, shaking his head. 'I don't think Szayel Aporro ever implied that I would be the one to actually kill Stark; I think that I would be too weak even if he was immobilized. I think merely that they want me to…'

'If you had a choice, Ishida,' Neliel repeated, arching an eyebrow.

Ishida lifted the small jewel that adorned his right wrist, and held it up to the light.

'If I have a choice,' he yielded; the Arrancar smiled, and needed no more.

She lightly patted his shoulder and stood away, not needing to look over her shoulder to know that the Quincy had returned to his contemplation of the floor. With decisive steps, that did not match her usual hesitant stride, Neliel Tu headed down the corridor, throwing a sweet smile in Ichigo's direction as she passed him by.

'You ready?' the human asked. 'We're about to cross…'

'In a moment,' she answered. 'Is Szayel Aporro in there?' Neliel asked, gesturing towards the laboratory door.

'Nah,' Ichigo responded. 'He…'

'…went to change his clothes,' Renji sighed.

Neliel nodded, and spread her fingers over the door controls.

'Nel, what…' Ichigo began, only to be swiftly but reassuringly interrupted.

'I'll be right out,' she said.

An end to all conversation, the laboratory door slid shut.

* * *

'Goddamn it,' Stark muttered between his teeth.

He pushed away from the locked blades by delivering a swift kick to Shuinsui's chest, and drifted towards the left. The Shinigami's hand switch did not surprise him as much as it had the first time it had happened; he dodged just in time, leaning his shoulders slightly back and letting the blade hiss by his chest.

'You can't have been impressed by that,' Shunsui noted, casually tipping his hat back.

'I wasn't,' Stark shrugged. 'I just sensed friends of yours moving in a direction that I don't like.'

He vanished out of the way of Shunsui's next blow, and appeared behind the Shinigami in the same second – by now, however, Shunsui too had become accustomed to the speed of the Arrancar's movement. He flung the sword from his left hand to his right, and spun on himself, confident that his haori would sufficiently conceal the movement.

Stark parried on instinct rather than on sight, catching the blow at an awkward downwards angle, which forced him to lift his elbow and trapped his forearm across his chest.

'Which direction?' Shunsui asked.

The Arrancar smirked, and pushed himself off without answering.

There was something slightly different, something off about the reiatsu vibrations in the air. In a sense, Stark thought, anxiously looking towards the south, it felt as if the air had become poorer, but more fragrant at the same time. A slight breeze, which seemed to rise from everywhere and nowhere, caressed his cheek, carrying a myriad of unknown, dry scents, but also the unmistakable smell of leaves and grass.

The smell of Karakura town, drifting back into reality.

'South,' Stark replied, almost speaking to himself.

Lilinette's reiatsu peaked with sudden panic, briskly drawing Stark's attention from his own opponent. He frowned and kept still for long enough to ascertain whether she was injured, giving Shunsui the sensation that his next blow would actually find its aim – just as the strike was about to land, however, the Primera blinked away, putting a safe distance between himself and the Shinigami.

'You look worried all of a sudden,' Shunsui noted, stopping in turn.

The fact that the Arrancar had not been pressing the battle was obvious; his attention was elsewhere, as it had been since Komamura's bankai had crumbled.

'Your subordinate?' he insisted, rotating his weapon.

'You'd sing many notes higher if Lilinette heard you say that,' Stark casually responded, still not lending Shunsui any attention.

He breathed in deeply, slightly lifting his chin, and giving the Shinigami the odd impression that he'd been trying to catch a particular scent. Shunsui frowned; if the Hollow had preserved Quincy reiatsu sensing abilities, it was likely he'd caught something the Shinigami had missed. Lowering his weapon, Shunsui focused in his turn, and, after casting a quick glance and assuring himself that the Arrancar would not catch him unprepared, he looked over his shoulder to Yamamoto and Ukitake, who had not moved and were still silently facing the elderly Hollow.

'What…'he began; he did not get the time to finish.

The foundation of the southern tower was pulverized within the blink of an eye – so fast, that the top seemed to hesitate eerily before leaning over and crashing in its turn. Shunsui cursed and spun around fully, momentarily forgetting that turning his back on the Hollow was unwise. Thin, ominous ripples ran through the air, and the ground beneath them shook in turn, as the weave of the illusion wavered, like the threads of a veil pulling apart – for a second, the sun played across vibrant green foliage, and lazily crept over still intact concrete.

Thinned and worn, the threads pulled together once more.

White light darted across the city, with the speed and furious heat of a comet. Shunsui had no time to catch a glimpse of Lilinette as she flew by, heading for Stark as if she had meant to strike him head on.

'Blow the tower,' the girl whispered, a brief moment before her eyes crossed the Espada's.

'What?' Stark asked, taking a step back, and breathing in the word rather than actually uttering it.

Instinctively, he reached his arm out and tensed his muscles, expecting that Lilinette would grab it and curve her trajectory to bring herself to a stop – she did not. Her eyes narrowed, and she clenched her teeth.

'Blow the tower,' she repeated, blood curling urgency in her voice as she hissed past.

Stark shook his head in sign of confused refuse, a million thoughts rushing in and out of his mind. The tower was the last one standing; with its fall, the true human city would be returned from Soul Society, and then…

Granted, he thought, Lilinette did not fully understand what he intended, yet it was hard to believe that after keeping up her game of cat and mouse with the Shinigami she had, of her own volition, decided to destroy the structure.

'Do you not hear me, Stark?' she cried, from far behind; the trail of her Sonido curved wide in the air above, then cut briskly downwards before coming to a halt. 'Blow the motherfucking tower!' Lilinette hissed.

The Primera hesitated for a second longer, briefly meeting Shunsui's glance. Neither man had time to react.

'Cero!' Lilinette breathed.

As fast as Shunsui might have been, he was not faster than light – the explosion surrounded the structure like a cloud, then turned solid, severing it in half like the strike of a sword; Shunsui's momentum carried him over the shattered remains of the tower, and he could only helplessly turn to behold the destruction when he was fifty feet beyond it. The Shinigami looked down, the expression on his features clearly telling that, for that mere instant, he'd been too shocked to be furious or consider the implications. Time crept to a halt; odd mirror images of each other, the two men stood on opposing sides of knowledge, truth, and a war that had suddenly become real.

'Lilinette…' Stark began, his voice fading as he met her glance. She shook her head, prompting him to stay quiet.

She was not angry, he realized, looking at her clenched jaw and at the light in her eyes. Nor was she hyper-excited. No, he thought, swallowing dry. She was, quite simply, terrified, and, as Lilinette looked at him, and slowly shook her head again, Stark briskly understood, and swallowed his words.

It was Aizen Sousuke who spoke next.

'Kyoraku-san,' he agreeably saluted, stepping forth from the pillar of dust that the tower's destruction had erected. He briefly bowed in Shunsui's direction. 'You kept my Primera busy, I see – unsurprising, I will admit it. I expected your levels of strength would be quite comparable.'

'As is your affinity for playing games, I am surprised to note.' he added, kind warmth dancing in his hazel eyes as he turned towards Stark; it was Lilinette who shivered.

'Have I missed your orders, Aizen-sama?' Stark asked, as casually as he could manage.

Aizen laughed, and strode forth, brushing his hand over the top of Lilinette's mask, then warmly patting his Primera Espada on the shoulder.

'You amuse me, Stark,' he said. 'I never figured that between the two of you it is you, and not her that is still a child at heart. Indeed, I think you may have missed my orders. Not necessarily the letter, but the spirit - yet, fortunately, Lilinette needed no more than a gentle prompt from Kaname to remember her purpose, and rush to remind you of yours. All is well that ends well, I should think?'

Because he knew that Aizen expected him to try to make eye contact with Lilinette, Stark fiercely resisted the temptation. He sustained Aizen's ironic gaze for a few seconds longer, then shrugged, sheathed his sword and yawned.

'We aim to please,' he mechanically responded.

_We're trapped. _

Lilinette's heart was hurriedly, desperately beating in his chest.

_Tick, tick, tick, anguished little flashes of light trapped in the dark._

'Please, join me,' Aizen commanded. 'I am sure you and Kyoraku-san will have a chance to cross paths again soon, but, for the moment…'

Stark hesitated, looking downwards, where the threads of illusion writhed and snapped, like an overstretched garment giving in at the seams.

'I have a gift for you,' the Creator added; he flicked his left hand towards the sky. Still smiling permissively, Aizen turned away and started walking towards the centre, the fingers of his right hand gracefully leaning on Kyoka Suigetsu's hilt.

As the gaping jaws of three Garganta tore the real, azure sky asunder and masses of white began stirring in their depth, Lilinette slinked close, and dug her tiny fingernails into Stark's arm. In turn, instinctively, he covered her hand with his and attempted to smile.

'It is in giving that we receive, I guess,' Stark said, with a mild shrug. In response, Aizen chuckled and vanished to Shumpo; the Primera followed without protest.

* * *

Up next - We shall be burning all enemies to ash.


	69. Love's Labour Lost

Good evening. It has been a hard week for the Stark and Lili under my pillow. It has been a hard week for me.

Myself and the kids who have slaved with me, more than me, really appreciate your kind words and would really appreciate your reviews on this one. It is only now that fanfic has turned to hatefic.

I thank you Maidros and Iviaedhros for willing through this one with me.

* * *

Your kindness and patience, sir, are appreciated more than you know.

* * *

Exodus, questo va anche per te. Iviaedhros m'insegna il camino, eppure tu mi hai regalato la fine :)

* * *

Chapter 69 - Where we hate them all, and this is is our power.

_There is so much a man can tell you,_

_So much he could say – you remain_

_My power, my pleasure, my pain._

_-- Seal, Kiss from a Rose._

* * *

'It don't look much like anything I remember…' Lilinette whispered, looking down.

Beneath their feet, odd little metallic boxes filled the frozen roads, like multicolored ants arranged in neat, orderly rows. From place to place, lights blinked alternatively – red, then green, then red again – underneath other lights that flashed pink, and fluorescent green, and electric blue over gleaming, harsh surfaces.

Nothing else moved.

In many ways, the real Karakura town looked more eerily deserted and dead than the illusion had – though perfect in many details, the illusion had been little else but a stage set, while this…This looked like life had been there, then suddenly, hastily departed. The city looked like a still warm corpse.

Stark squinted.

'No, it _doesn't_,' he distractedly corrected.

Ironic, he thought, pulling Lilinette close. Judging by the looks of things, this brave new world looked very clean, orderly and efficient; no nonsensical gothic domes, lacy stained glass windows or looming gargoyles.

_Living humans. Just about when you thought you had done away with the supernatural in your lives, it is about to remind you that it exists by wiping you all out. But don't worry – though you do not know it, greater beings have decided that your present lives are worthless, your tiny passions inconsequential. According to some, you'll get another spin of the wheel soon enough._

If he'd still had a stomach, he imagined it would be turning violently.

Aizen's spiritual pressure was running deceivingly low; normally, Stark would have associated that with the Creator's usual pretence of humility, but it was not the case now. Aizen was simply keeping his reiatsu low because he wanted his former companions to sense all the other flavours of impending destruction that were swirling around them. Beautiful Halibel, glowing with loss and grief; Barragan and his throne, from which he had not budged a single inch, awaiting orders…

_And us, standing as alone as we've always been._

The three remaining Shinigami captains had regrouped at the center, facing outwards as the troop of Arrancar closed in; only one of the three – Ukitake, name and face to remember: white hair, brown eyes, the kanji of thirteen on his shoulders and moldy darkness in his chest – was looking down. The other two had not; in fact, Yamamoto Genryusai had barely even blinked.

'It is not too late yet, Aizen.'

Stark frowned, realizing it was Ukitake who spoke, his gaze still fixed on the lives that slept unsuspecting below- a budding cataclysm that did not regard them in the least

For some reason, he had imagined he would recognize Ukitake's voice; he did not, and, in truth, the Primera thought, there was no reason why he should have. Some of them must have spoken to him on that day, but this one had spoken to Lilinette alone.

_Had he said it was not too late then, too? _

The words had reflected no fear or uncertainty. In fact, they bore an unmistakable, cold and superior edge of disgust.

In contrast, Aizen's laughter sounded healthy, warm and positively real.

'You are still arrogant, Ukitake,' he said, in good humour. 'Did I not tell you that I would stand in the Heavens?'

He opened his arms wide.

'Here I stand,' Aizen said. 'In the Heavens, and amid all of my creation.'

White and black creatures, big and small, began spilling forth from the darkness of the Garganta, in an overwhelming chorus of eager of spiritual voices. Line after endless line, the soldiers stood to attention in their thousands – both Gillian and Numeros. The bony white fingers of Menos ripped the sky apart in hundreds of places, and one after another, the Menos who had squeezed through straightened and stood, lumbering nightmares in their eerie, ungraceful, but almost synchronised side to side motion.

'Fucking hell!' Lilinette exclaimed, grabbing hold of Stark's wrist. 'Where did he pull these out of? He had them up there all the time?'

'Yeah,' Stark admitted, scratching the back of his head, and taking a discouraged, deep breath. 'This is not good,' he said, questioningly looking down at Lilinette.

The line of invaders continued to flow and thicken, then expand outwards, encircling the small group of powerful entities in row after row of white uniforms, fangs and gleaming swords. As if in a learned routine, the dark figures of the Menos drifted towards the outer reaches of the circle, allowing the others to push them ever outward, as the circle slowly filled. They settled and grouped at mid height between the heaven and the skies, spinning their ranks both outwards and inwards, and slowly writhing over and under each other to completely fill the center and hide the city below from Stark's view.

'I think I'm thinking what you're thinking,' he said, to Lilinette's half fascinated, half disgusted grimace.

'Looks like lots an' lots of worms,' Lilinette nodded, truly reading his mind. 'Only the thing below ain't dead yet.' She added, thoughtfully, and, Stark thought, with a pointed note of regret.

He focused away from her words, clearing his mind and letting his reiatsu sensing abilities as loose as he could afford. The gathering spiritual pressure was painful, assuring him that the creatures that Aizen had stored in the Garganta – out of harm's way, and just ready to cross at the opportune moment – were not among Hueco Mundo's weakest. He breathed in deeply, then frowned, finding that even though none of the particular entities smelled powerful enough to be recognized, the gathering itself had a very familiar and very poignant flavour.

Stark shot a questioning look across at Halibel, but had to insist for a few long seconds, before actually catching her eye. He felt some of her sorrow when he did – her stare had been oddly empty and remote, green emerald depth turned murky; Stark instinctively inched closer to Lilinette. Her shoulder brushed against his arm, and Halibel's gaze abruptly regained focus as her eyes narrowed. Stark sustained her glance nonetheless.

He slowly looked down, his gaze guiding hers, then tilted his head to the side, to indicate Barragan. After a deep breath of her own, Halibel nodded in confirmation of his intuition.

'Not all of these are new,' Stark whispered to Lilinette. 'Most of them are Barragan's lot.'

'Hm?' she replied, arching an eyebrow. 'How does that matter, tho'?

'Doesn't matter very much to us, sadly' he answered, with a little shrug. 'But that means he plans for Barragan to lead the attack below. And,' he added, with a hint of amusement, as he watched Halibel pointlessly seeking to meet Aizen's glance, 'I don't think anyone let Halibel in on the plan.'

'He, he,' Lilinette giggled. 'Serves her right! The problem is, of course, that no one let you in on the plan either,' the Fraccion added, wisely, and Stark sighed. Both looked at the swirling, writhing mass beneath their feet. 'I fucked up, didn't I?' she whispered, so softly that he barely heard her. 'Back there, with the tower… Tousen just showed up an' blew mine, like – pow! an' I thought…An' now I brought all of them back, to where they were really not meant to be...'

Lilinette gazed up in expectation, rounded pink eyes swimming in doubt; uncharacteristically, Stark looked away from her glance. He could barely feel the spiritual energy of the town below, not only because there were so many interferences…but because there was so precious little of it. There was, Stark thought, no inherent kindness or mercy or nostalgia that kept Hollow who had surpassed the Adjucha stage from re-entering the human world. It was simply that they had no reason to; there was nothing here that would appease Hollow hunger beyond that stage.

Conservation of energy, in its simplest form.

If there was nothing of interest here, even to the simplest of Adjuchas…

'Well, I didn't know what the fuck to do,' Lilinette cranked her nose, when his reassurance tarried. 'Really sucks that it was the last one.'

'Yes,' Stark sighed again, the now clear regret in the Fraccion's voice returning him to reality. 'No, Lilinette you did well - there is very little else you could have done, and you could not have changed any outcomes; if you hadn't done it, Aizen would have.'

'But yes, you are right.' He softly conceded, to himself as much as to Lilinette. 'It would have been a bit better if it hadn't been the last tower. It's just a psychological anchor,' he ended with a shrug, only realizing that his wording had not been particularly appropriate when Lilinette had painfully pinched his arm. 'Ow,' he'd faintly protested. 'No reason why the fourth is more important than the first. Looked more important than it was.'

_That's all._

The breeze was turning cold, and statically charged, while the flow of bodies out of the Garganta had finally slowed to a mere drizzle; thin, unusual wisps of dark clouds had begun gathering from the previously serene corners of the sky, and weaving into each other directly above them. Barragan stood from his throne, leaning heavily on his long, double edged axe, but then effortlessly lifting it and flinging it over his shoulder. The elderly Arrancar briefly looked to Stark, as if seeking to acknowledge the new Primera was suitably impressed and attentively watching his moment of greatness – in response, Stark yawned so wide that his jaws cracked audibly, and Barragan shifted his glance away so fast that Lilinette giggled once more.

'If you don't wanna fight 'em, ignore them till they go away,' she said.

'Pretty much, yeah,' Stark shrugged.

Above them, the clouds thickened, their menacing motion imitating the movement of the white mass beneath their feet. Barragan moved forward; beneath his feet, the gathered Numeros began to writhe in expectation, their reiatsu rising and falling, like the swell of a gigantic tide. With uncertain steps, Findor followed closely behind, throwing an uncertain glance towards Stark and Lilinette as he passed. The Primera Fraccion gave him a reassuring wink, in sign that whatever had happened at the eastern tower would remain at the eastern tower. The blonde Arrancar looked relieved and nodded slightly in turn, but shuddered unexplainably.

The wind had picked up and was turning quite cold, Stark noted, feeling his hair was swaying against his cheekbones.

'Your orders, Aizen-sama,' Barragan spoke, in a booming voice; as an echo, thunder rolled somewhere in the distance.

Lilinette and Stark looked up. The clouds seemed to have descended further, hanging menacingly just tens of feet above their heads. They were no longer shapeless, no longer writhing. Instead, the growing wind had spun them into thick, swirling serpents that seemed to chase each others' tails, and gather upwards.

'Gonna rain,' she remarked, dryly, still looking up.

'Yes,' he agreed, looking forward, and belatedly bringing his hand to his hip.

Ukitake Joushirou vanished from view.

Stark lounged forward and half pulled his sword, only realizing that he had done it once the gesture had been complete, and he had covered a hundred feet forwards and downwards, coming to stand but twenty feet above the solid, gathered mass of Numeros. Terrified by the fast, unexpected movement, the group moved as if the Espada's furiously solidified reiatsu had been a boulder cast in a lake; some drifted downwards, some shifted and pushed outward in thick, concentric lines, looking about themselves in panic.

The Primera stopped as fast as he had started, swallowing dry and understanding that he had, with this single gesture, betrayed more lack of control than he ever had since he'd passed through the gem. He'd swallowed dry, and looked upwards towards Lilinette, hoping that meeting her glance would still his temper – it did not; to the contrary, and of their own volition, his fingers grasped the sword's hilt with renewed determination. As if grateful for the confidence, the blade began charging. Overflowing darkness reached out at the tiny opening between the hilt's guard and the scabbard, and caressed his fingers; similar, more decisive purplish tongues licked at the edges of his Hollow hole, tangible hatred welling inside of his chest and darkening his eyes.

_After centuries lost…At least one. At least this one._

Lilinette slowly shook her head, but for once, her opinion did not matter and would not be discussed. Stark bit his lower lip, the writhing in his chest expanding outwards as he took a deep breath, and receding as he let the air out, slowly and purposefully.

He shifted his glance from Lilinette to Aizen, though he could still feel her gaze on his cheek, timid and sweet and warm, like a ray of sunlight escaping through the approaching, oppressive clouds. But for a wantonly amused undertone, Aizen's expression felt pretty much the same.

'Mine,' Stark growled, in answer to the unasked question.

_You will have Yamamoto anyway. I need to have just one._

Despite the fact that he had not moved, the Numeros sea under his feet rippled once more, as if the sound of his voice had been more terrifying than the speed of his motion.

'You shall await orders…' Barragan furiously began, whipping his gigantic weapon to the side with such fury that the clouds around him swirled, and the thin lines of lightning which darted within the wet, lead coloured mists seemed to be the only thing that kept them from dispersing.

Aizen looked down, blinking twice in now open amusement.

'I don't think I understand you, Stark,' he said, in lighthearted good humour. 'I should have thought you would dearly like to assist me against…'

'You do not need my assistance. I have full faith and confidence in you, Aizen-sama,' the Primera said. 'Through Ulquiorra's sight,' he continued, eyes narrowed to the width of knife blades, 'I have seen true, and I have learned _why_ I should place your power beyond doubt.'

And now, Stark thought, gritting his teeth with satisfaction, Aizen's smile was not longer _quite_ that warm.

'Very well,' Aizen conceded. 'I promised you a gift, it is only fair that I should let you choose it,' he sighed, his smile turning sweet once more.

'Bankai,' the clouds above thundered; five lines of lightning, thick and tangible and as broad as a man's chest descended, carving imprecise wounds into the white mass below. Despite their speed, it was still Stark's passage to make the mass ripple and break.

Shunsui's own descent occurred before the wounds of Ukitake's might close in full, and cutting sheets of rain began lashing furiously at the sleeping earth below.

'Aizen-sama,' Barragan shouted, to cover the roaring sound of rain and thunder which now swirled all about them. 'You promised me…'

'And I shall keep my promise,' Aizen nodded; he did not need to shout to be heard. 'Go,' he merrily said. 'Feed.'

Barragan threw his head back and laughed – beneath him, his armies roared out in hungry expectation, covering the sound of his laughter, and almost drowning out the sound of thunder.

As Stark's scimitar met Ukitake Joushirou's crossed blades, lighting exploded upwards in blinding fury.

Ukitake uncrossed his weapons with remarkable ease, the simple momentum of his forearms pushing Stark tens of feet back. Each sheet of cutting, cold rain which descended from the clouds seemed to be a blade in its turn, and bit at Stark's back and shoulders, ripping through his tunic, as the Espada flew backwards; the falling water gathered in thin air, against some solid, but invisible barrier, and, as Stark willed himself to a stop, he felt that he had been standing in a deepening puddle. He tensed and pounced forth once more; tiny droplets of clear water dripping off his sandals had barely formed half way of his trail when he appeared behind Ukitake, and applied a heavy, sideward slash.

This time, Ukitake parried with only one sword, and the speed and strength of his parry were inadequate. It was his turn to slip away unwillingly, his ankles sliding through clear water, and stop a few feet away.

Stark's eyes narrowed.

Ukitake Joushirou's breath was already ragged.

His reiatsu came out in waves, each one more discernable than the one that preceded it, circle after expanding circle spreading the clear liquid at his feet – he awkwardly stepped to the left, concentric aura moving with him as he parried with his right sword. Stark lingered in the push, seeking the other's glance, and finally encountering it. Blue arrows plunged through russet depths, as metal screeched against metal.

'You will die,' Stark whispered, in soft, relaxed self assurance. He tensed his reiatsu to but a fraction of its might, his scimitar's darkness lashing out and ripping at the Shinigami's defending arm. 'No,' he contradicted himself, as the taste of the other's decaying energy crept though his veins. 'You are already dying.'

Ukitake frowned.

It was the next ripple of his reiatsu rather than the force in his arm to repel Stark. The contact between blades broke, and the Arrancar was pushed back no more than a few inches – yet, in a flurry, Ukitake brought his left blade about at the height of his chest, white light moving with him and cutting at solid darkness. The Primera jumped back, landing on one knee; he felt, rather than heard or saw the crackling of energy behind him. He raised his Hierro to his sides, as the twin blades glinted on the corners of his vision. Instead of stinging at the Espada's raised defences, Ukitake brought his weapons down to either side of Stark body, sinking their tips in the clear water – biting electricity coursed from metal to liquid and through the Arrancar's body, underneath his Hierro.

Stark cringed, but did not move. Had he still had true muscles and tendons, he was assured he would have been painfully jerking from all joints – as was, the Shinigami's attack was simply overly painful, causing Stark's energy to bubble and burn within. The sensation did not dull, but it did not heighten either, and the Arrancar pushed himself to his feet, seeking to take advantage of Ukitake's open defences. As quick as the light that he wielded, the Shinigami brought his left handed sword cross his stomach, managing to deflect the tip of Stark's scimitar. Water, turned to a thin sheet of cutting glass rose from beneath, slashing Stark's wrist away before he could drive his blow through to its aim, and cleaving flesh from bone in its advance.

The Arrancar retreated once more, shaking his forearm clear of the blood, and taking a deep breath as he willed his reiatsu back into the shape of his flesh; he raised his sword, and held firm, sending deep and dark flames to clash against the still advancing wave – clear water broke against harsh fangs. Stark smiled wickedly to the Shinigami's mild frown, and briefly rotated his shoulder, ridding it of the last remnants of the burn.

Ukitake painfully jerked forward; a Numero, the first to descend, had taken advantage of the Shinigami's focus to deliver a swift punch between Ukitake's shoulder blades as it hissed by. The creature's energy was barely noticeable, and it shrieked in pain at the contact with the much more powerful entity before proceeding on its way – the Primera frowned at the Shinigami's disproportionate reaction, but did not have time to fully consider it. Another, large and lumbering, passed in between Shinigami and Espada, and well another descended behind Stark. The Shinigami's focus on the Primera broke – he darted upwards, through the thickening rain of speeding bodies, slashing at those that were in reach, and directing furious bolts of lightning at a further few, features twisted with a mixture of concentration, fury and despair.

Stark grinned.

_Oh you can get some, but you cannot get them all…_

Fifty feet above, Ukitake stopped, looking about himself and biting his lower lip; he too must have realized the futility of his attacks, as the number of the Arrancar that had begun their descent had abruptly grown to hundreds. Fiery Gillian Ceros ripped through the clouds, in the sorrowful and terrifying wails of the Menos Grande – a few of the hit the town below, shattering concrete.

_How odd_, Stark thought, looking down. _How many just died?_ The distance that stretched between him and the earth below had dulled all sound; the first true strike had been totally silent.

_If a tree falls in the forest…_

Stark looked up, intending to renew his attack; he drifted up for a mere two feet before slowly coming to a halt, upon meeting Ukitake's glance. The Shinigami returned the glance, eyes blank and wide in disgust and disbelief.

'Why do you fight for him?' Ukitake shouted down, opening his arms wide, lightning stretched thinly between the tips of his blades. 'What good is this, to you?' he added, sorrowfully. 'What good can it be…to anyone?'

He shook his long, white tresses again, with furious incomprehension.

'What good is it to you?' Ukitake mouthed, his regrets prompting the other to speak; light, blinding and burning bathed his figure, erupting from the centre of the lead-ridden darkness which spun above. The wind hissed and wailed as the storm grew, spinning into thick, heavy ropes of destruction; wet, angular features sharpened by rain, and blue eyes lit with bitter, insane amusement, Stark looked up.

'What is it, Ukitake Joushirou?' he shouted in return. 'What are you trying to resolve? Don't you already believe that human death has no more meaning than human life?'

Ukitake's brows furrowed; he visibly took the blow and swallowed dry; he composed himself rapidly, but, judging by the shadows in his eyes, not without effort, and shook his blades free of the lightning lines that linked them. He pointed the left one to the side, and slowly brought the right one upwards, into the eye of the storm.

'I reject them,' thunder roared from above, as his arm whipped downwards.

Stark rose to meet the attack which was not directed at him, but at the entire mass of Numeros all around them – thick, heavy ropes of cloud descended with the speed and accuracy of spears, tearing through all flesh in their path and coiling around each other in a deadly weave. Electricity crackled between them, a web of static holding all movement prisoner to its fine, entangling might; cries of pain and surprise were drowned by the howling wind, as Barragan's armies continued to fall into the fifty foot tall solid trap of cloud and lightning. A few pushed through, but far more were ripped apart, their momentum broken and their movement slowed; red Menos Ceros crisscrossed, and dissipated, barely discernible in the mist.

Ukitake turned swiftly as the dark strands of Cero reached for him through the fog, but rather than retreating, he darted forth in his turn. An aura of needle thin, white lines followed his momentum, and Stark's darkness split upon them, whipping to the sides. The slash came from behind, however, swift, heavy and well aimed, the blade ripping through the Shinigami's white haori.

_Kanji of thirteen, split in half._

By sheer good fortune, the strike fell short of drawing blood, but the weight of the ripped cloth slowed Ukitake's defence. He started to turn, white hair and white silk in a flurry; Stark allowed him to turn by more than half, awaiting the crucial moment when the other would shift his weight. He heard the Shinigami's breath, heavy and heaving like the wind his zanpakutoh conjured, and he fancied he was close enough to find the Shinigami's heart by its beat alone; a hurricane of clear water rose from under his feet, unbearably cold and tremendously fast. The reiatsu pressure at its center was so powerful that the Primera's ears clogged painfully, and he swallowed dry, seeking for the pressure to stop.

Ukitake was still turning, inch by inch, bringing his left hand sword up for a parry. No trace of kindness, regret or desire to comprehend was left in his eyes, and, for a moment, Stark tasted the irony of the fact that he regretted their disappearance. But for those three feelings, but for those three flavours, this one would have been exactly like the rest of them – just like all of the other Shinigami he had hated through life and unlife, and just like all of those whose existences he'd ended by arrow, then sword, then Cero…And he did not want that; for this one time, for this only one man, the only one for whom he would endanger his carefully constructed plan for… for amid an entire lot that he dearly wished dead – _Yamamoto, Aizen, Ichimaru, Kuchiki…all shadows of the same arrogance_ – he wished to kill something else. The feigned reflection of these very three flavours…

_For arrogance I could kill in them all. Hypocrisy- now, that… I can only slay with him. But for holding out for false hope and empty kindness, I know will see this him in yet another hell._

Ukitake turned in full, brushing Stark's scimitar aside through the waves of the tornado, but encountering no more resistance than that of his own defences. Too late, he realized that this Arrancar's movement was not constrained by the static and cloud that surrounded them and that had trapped all the others – the scimitar's dark tip vanished, as did the hatefully charge blue gaze of its master. Ukitake felt the presence behind him and desperately raised his right arm, angling his sword. A brief, odd pause made him think that perhaps he had been fast enough, that he would catch it; his torn haori slipped downwards on his arm, encumbering his motion, but also blurring the other's aim. The hit landed nonetheless, just under his collarbone, applied in a slow, careful, almost deliberate manner; his sword, Ukitake understood, had closed the angle, but had not gone far enough in doing so. He felt the scimitar's tip scraping along the shoulder blade, and angling downwards as the Arrancar jolted the hilt up – the realization that the Espada had not meant to push the blade cleanly through his back, but rather that he intended to manoeuvre it further inside his ribcage. To reach the heart. To reach the lungs.

He willed himself forward on the scimitar, pushing himself on in a powerful jolt, halting the intent and wincing as he felt his own strength against the other's weapon was shattering the bone, in an agonizing, but not lethal injury. Ukitake turned as he pushed, serene in pain and resolve. As Stark's blade ripped out through what remained of his haori, he crossed his swords, thrusting their outer, angled blades forth, into the Arrancar's stomach. Scathing light cauterized the wound before the first droplet of blood had time to emerge, jolting Stark backwards into the mist.

Sleek metal gleamed in the long, decisive shadow the lightning had caused; out of breath, and shocked by the Shinigami's daring, Stark did not look behind. His Hierro whipped about him, aimed forward and grappling at the air in an attempt of slowing the momentum of Ukitake's push – the shadow moved decisively forward, gaining shape, and Stark saw the tip of the blade emerging through his chest long before he sensed either pain, or the other's reiatsu.

Nor did he feel the familiar sensation of his own blood– as Kyoraku Shunsui fully emerged, angling his other dark blade at the Espada's throat, Stark felt warm, wet heat ascending his spine, and spreading across his shoulders, then snaking decisively around his arms. He bent his elbows, and tensed.

Leaning her full weight on Stark's forearms, Lilinette brought her knees to her chest, closing her eyes as she kicked Shunsui in the chest with both feet; the Shinigami's blade cut through her shoulder, as it slipped a few inches clear of Stark's chest.

'Motherfucker!' she cursed, and repeated the motion, so decisively that she pushed the two men twenty feet aside, her bare shoulders burning clearly though the material of Stark's tunic, and her sandals leaving a clear, red imprint on Kyoraku's chest. 'Ya like to play hide an' seek, eh?' she yelped, letting go of Stark's arms and standing behind him, shoulders still glued to his back. Tiny, hot fingers slipped along the Espada's arm, entwining with his. Stark pressed his other forearm across his injured stomach, lowered his head and smiled.

_You always come for me._

The sensation of peace lasted little.

'Whatcha think you're doin', ha?' Lilinette hissed, poking him in the ribs with her very sharp elbow. 'Ain't ya looking?'

'Ow, Lilinette,' he muttered. 'Can we leave the prodding for after?'

'I prod you when I wanna prod you,' she grunted. 'Alright?'

'Fine.'

They stood side by side, each facing an enemy – the ones who remembered, facing the ones who had forgotten – though he could not see Shunsui, Stark sensed the fearsome power of his reiatsu, another perfect storm, another monster, but…within it, as the Shinigami looked at Lilinette from up close, Stark sensed the very thing that he had been looking to feel. The thing that made his hatred flare along his blade, and dried his skin, and filled the fangs around his neck with the overwhelming memory of blood.

_Kindness, regret, and the desire to comprehend._

He sensed Shunsui had taken a step back.

Behind him, Lilinette had begun to tremble.

'Our fight,' Stark said, his gloved thumb caressing the back of her hand. 'This is our fight. Now, in the storm, where nobody can see us.'

'But…' she whispered, swallowing dry.

Her heart beat in his chest – little anguished flashes of light in the dark.

'Why…them…Why, if you didn't _kill_ any of the others…'

Ukitake's eyes widened, as if the wind had carried the sound of the girl's voice right to the distant corner of his heart and mind – it hadn't been the words, the Espada knew; the words had struck something with Shunsui, whose reiatsu had sharpened, but for the other one… Stark's eyes narrowed, seeing naught but the fact that the Shinigami had lowered his swords, those swords…And, for a moment, Ukitake Joushirou's attention faded from reality, while the man still stood, drowning in himself.

_I see you, Shinigami. You're wondering through a graveyard,_ Stark thought. _And you can't find her grave._

The Primera turned and kneeled, and though Lilinette did not stand away, she looked at him in fright.

'I hate when you're like this,' she whispered. 'I hate…'

'I know,' he whispered, kneeling to match her height, and look into her eyes. 'I'm sorry. For more than you imagine,' he added, caressing her cheek.

'But why these two, Stark?' Lilinette insisted, reaching for his cheek in her turn; he relished the warmth of the caress for but a second. 'Why…'

'Because they owe us, Lilinette,' he said, looking into her eyes, and fearing what he desperately hoped to see. Some shadow, even if fleeting, of what had gone…Yet there was nothing, nothing but fear and confusion. She gripped his shoulders. 'They stole from us.'

'What did they steal?' she asked, swallowing dry, pretty round eyes welling with tears and desperate longing for buried memories. Stark hesitated, long, pointless questions running through his head, without start, or end, or meaning.

_I'll tell you after this_, he swore to himself, _no matter what it costs. I cannot let you live this anymore._

'What did they steal, Stark...' Lilinette whispered; he bit his lower lip.

_Your wedding day. Our wedding night…_

'Our right to forgetting all that we have lost,' he answered, and Lilinette queried no further.

Stark lowered his forehead and she lifted hers, as if for a kiss.

'Kick…,' she whispered.

Absolute, painful, white silence drowned out the rest of the command.

* * *

Up next - If you even imagined I shall actually type in *release that shall not be named*....

Up next, there will be the next 5k words of this chapter in which we really burn all enemies to ash.


	70. Ashes

Good evening, Ladies and Gentlemen.

Thank you for your reviews on LLL, and once more, apologies for the editing mishap. We shall not let it happen again. I am very greatful to you for your patience, and kind words.

And...we hope you will find the next parts rewarding. We shall be posting a double chapter over the next couple of days; we've debated and thought long and hard about how this should be split, and...well...we decided that we could not split it in any way that would not break the flow. At the same time, we would not want to punish you with a very brutal 12k words, thus...

Part One will be up tonight, and we shall be seeing you again tomorrow morning for Part Two.

And no, I have not succumbed to the voices in my head - yet. Ashes to Ashes was **co-written** **with IVIaedhros**, who owns 80% percent of the chapter, both in terms of language, and in terms of ideas and imagery. In other words, if you read it and you like it, it's him. If you don't like it, that's definitely me :)

The effort that has gone into this, from both him and Maidros, but also three other unseen folks has been tremendous; I am really greatful to them, and we'll all be greatful for your notes.

* * *

Note: Stark's release (y'all knew this was coming!) is a combination of what I had originally intended to write for him, and canon. I thought the canon release was quite awesome, so, I shall employ it, begging forgiveness, and reminding y'all that there is nothing in Understanding itself that contradicts it outright.

Note 2: Could not resist putting the colour game in. This is now hatefic, after all :)

Note 3: No character death warnings means that no characters die. Just to make sure ^_^ It's hatefic, but not towards Shinigami.

* * *

No warnings for...

Chapter 70: Where, in our honest opinion, you should consider Final Fantasy - Advent's Children: _One Wing Angel_ as soundtrack.

* * *

The reiatsu was released in a quick, high pitched pulse of sound and light, so powerful that, for a moment, Ukitake had the feeling that he had not only gone blind, but also deaf – his eardrums had vibrated once, sharply and painfully. Then, for a few, excruciating seconds, he heard nothing more, and saw nothing more.

A thin limb of white stretched between heaven and earth, expanding concentrically outwards as it grew shorter. The outer push of energy had been so great that the two Shinigami had had to cover their eyes and struggled to retain their footing. In the span of a mere eye blink, the pillar had expanded into a thin, translucent disk, which hovered in the storm above their heads and severed the clouds; energy whirled within, settling towards the edges, and cooling as it spun on itself. The pressure began to recede, and sound was once more discernible, yet, with an exchanged glance, the two assured each other that the worst was yet to come.

Dark stirred at the heart of the light. At first, it was no more than an illusion, or the sensation that the glowing, white disk had become so thin in the middle that it allowed a glimpse at the clouds above, yet, as soon as the resounding sound wave of the release's pulse had faded, another noise grew in its wake, low, grating and ominous, the sound of a monster long buried clawing its way into the open.

Strands of black, fluid, flat and tangible, erupted at the center of the disk, crawling outwards and whipping in the wind, littered with yellowing white, like the torn remains of Menos shroud shaking clear of the bones it still covered. Though they seemed solid, the strands blended together and ripped apart with wild screams, only to meld into each other again as they advanced. They bent over the edges of the light swallowing it whole, before flexing, to crumple it within and compress it into a human sized heap of dark silk. It rippled, hemmed in blinding light.

The Primera did not stand to inspection – the completed shroud flowed to the side, to abruptly sharpen into a needle thin spear. Not knowing what he was facing, Ukitake took a step back and pointed his swords forward, as the solid silken flurry made straight for his chest. Lightning, burning and precise burst forth from the parallel tips of the Shinigami's swords, yet the very precision of the bolt was its undoing. The shroud briskly evaded to the side, turning quickly on its axis, and allowing Ukitake a brief glance at metallic, golden gleams from within.

_What, in the name of…_

He heard a mechanical, dry click.

The Shinigami broke his own thought and vanished to Shumpo. In the same heartbeat, golden light, sleek and precise, shot from the darkness, crossing the cloudy mists at the exact height of where Ukitake's chest had been. Though his Shumpo had taken him fifty feet away, the white-haired Shinigami barely had time to turn. He awkwardly deflected a second projectile, his sword heating unpleasantly as he caught the energy along the blade and conducted it outwards. He retreated a step, giving himself barely enough time to catch the third hit.

Shunsui fell in from the side, wide dark blades alive in his hands – his straw hat flew away, blown away the speed of his shadow step. The swords aimed to cut the shroud at mid length, but, as if it had been truly no more than lithe fabric, the veil drifted upwards and spread itself flat, strong light gleaming on the forming and reforming edges of the tears in its center. A single projectile was shot downwards, but by the time that Shunsui had steadied for a parry, it had multiplied into a line of hundreds, perfectly round and incandescent.

Understanding that such energy could neither be absorbed nor parried, Shunsui darted to the side, allowing the Primera's attack to roll past him, but stopping barely feet away from another rapidly fired and equally powerful guillotine of light. The sound of the attacks seemed to grow at the same pace as their heat, hundreds of trails visible and scalding in turn, spreading out and overlapping like the fine pallets of a fan…from a single point of origin.

In a flash, Shunsui was above the floating, thin veil, his swords crossed over the exact spot from which the attacks had originated; the Arrancar attempted to slither away, the contours of darkness suddenly tensing and turning solid, but his current shape seemed to be far slower than his pointed one. Soft currents that started around the Shinigami's wrists turned to furious wind and widened as they travelled along the blades, only to unite upon the crossed tips – the tornado descended upon the shroud, pulling it violently outwards and forcing it to stretch and rip. The light along the fluid tears became blinding as the tears themselves widened; thousands of voices cried, shrieked and howled in unison, with pain as well as surprise. Shocked by the noise, Shunsui glanced downward, almost recoiling at the sight claws and fangs writhing in the endless abyss of the light. The fabric kept intact for a second longer, before the tension along its edges vanished and it fully ripped asunder. All the voices fell suddenly, eerily quiet.

All but one.

A young girl laughed, spinning echoes of crystal clear sound following the currents, as the torn pieces of the veil surrendered to the tornado, allowing the wind to shred it fully; dark, tiny fragments melted to warm light, painting Shunsui's attack into their likeness. A pair of cold, blue eyes, glinted in the center of the storm. Then, another.

The Shinigami had no time to react.

Grey wolves, more than he could count on first glance, jumped out of the tornado's eye. Though their bodies were no more than thin smoke and mist, contours melting into each other, their fangs were real enough to tear the flesh clear off Shunsui's right shoulder and left arm. He grunted in pain, pulling his swords away from each other, and cutting two of the assailants in half with a single swing; he shook his left arm free of one creature's fangs, and swung the hilt of his sword against the side of the one that was hanging over his shoulder and gnawing at his flesh. His hand slipped clearly through the creature's body, and he had the assurance that the blow had not done more than inconvenience it. The wolf ripped a chunk of flesh free of Shunsui's shoulder, and sunk its hind claws into his chest to sustain itself. It slowly turned its head, to meet the Shinigami's glance.

Its eyes were steel blue in steel blue. And, Shunsui noted in fascination, it was still chewing leisurely as its contours solidified, trapping his arm.

Thin, well aimed lightning whipped the wolf aside, biting at Shunsui's arm, but freeing him and throwing his assailant to the side, in a mist of blood and the chocking smell of burned fur; the maimed, dying creature yelped once, and exploded, completely tearing asunder one of the Numeros that were struggling free of the web of static.

The oddly solid light floated to the side, free of the tornado; the remainder of the wolves stood motionless a second longer, staring at Shunsui with their oddly intelligent, glittering blue eyes, then spun about and, after a few quick bounds, jumped back into the golden center from which they had emerged. The shroud erupted outwards, once more concealing the light.

The Primera's next shot forced the two Shinigami to jump in different directions, before they had time to exchange more than a glance. Black spread in between them, lashing Shunsui back for hundreds of feet, then thinning and pointing itself at Ukitake. The Cero hit him squarely in the chest, spreading hot, slowing warmth through his limbs and artificially soothing numbness across his mind.

'We see where it hurts,' the Arrancar had hissed, not in one voice, but in two; Ukitake recognized both, and unwillingly lurched.

_What is this? What has he…_

Trying to shake himself free of all thought but thought of battle, and hoping that distance would allow him time to regain the initiative, Ukitake evaded to Shumpo again, only to find that the attacks were coming from above; the opponent had not only moved with him, but had also apparently had sufficient time to radically shift angle. The Shinigami did not have time to catch his ragged breath – he parried, crossing his swords above his head, but slipped down several feet, painfully knocking into the solid mass of one of the trapped Numeros. Twin lines of white light, imitating the shape of his blades, formed in mid air and blossomed into thousands, advancing to tear through many motionless enemies, but failing by inches to capture the impossibly fluid one. The Primera descended rapidly, bringing himself at the same height as Ukitake, but keeping himself at safe range; the Shinigami retreated, step after step, as more scalding single shots followed in rapid, blinding succession, leaving no room for thought and demanding desperate, instinctive, and consuming defensive maneuvers.

The Arrancar was circling, and though Ukitake could not see him, for the rapid, ever shifting attacks left no room for focus, he could still feel the wet, cold aura that the shroud left in the wake of each slithering move. With each shot, the angles varied only slightly, and the intensity of the dispensed energy did not change. Nonetheless, Ukitake's blades were getting hotter with each parry, and he could see no more than a foot in front of his face; instinct, not reason guided his movements – darkness glided somewhere beyond, but also _inside,_ no more than hinting at itself, but definitely advancing. The Shinigami tasted blood, and caught a glimpse of the shroud's hem, just to his right, then parried only to catch a glimpse of its flow to his left, at an angle which his arms could not possibly follow.

Ukitake started to Shumpo; time slowed, then stopped, dark flows of silk stopping with it, and through the ripped darkness of the Menos shroud, Ukitake saw.

A single blue eye stared at him with cold, dispassionate attention; the Arrancar's gaze, sharpened by the sights of a pistol, flowed along the rounded darkness of the firearm's barrel. The weapon was cast in heavy, blackened iron, but its sides were delicately encased in gold and translucent heart of pearl – Ukitake had never seen anything of its sort, and, for a mere moment, he dazedly admired the…_craftsmanship…_

The Primera's slanted blue eye narrowed even further, and, in the vacuum that Shumpo created, Ukitake felt energy gathering in the Primera's wrist as hints of light grew inside the weapon's barrel. Ukitake tried to breathe, and found he could not; the air in his throat stayed in his throat, refusing to descend to his chest; the Arrancar's shot ripped through thin air, but the shadow step brought Ukitake neither safety nor breath – he gasped, pressing his hand to his chest.

'We will kill you,' Stark said, from the rapidly approaching darkness. 'We will rip your rotting lungs from your chest, and we will give you time to wonder if you breathe better with or without them.'

'And when we're done,' Lilinette continued, in a small, childish chuckle, 'We're gonna leave ya with a neat hole in your chest – a pretty, neat round one. Just like ours.'

The rips in the Arrancar's mantle closed, and the shroud spun itself thin, gaining speed and insinuating grace. Fine sheets of glass met it, barring its path in a labyrinth of solid, cutting blades – it simply spun even thinner, becoming a thread and weaving itself through clear water and furious foam; then, lightning tore it along all of its length, revealing the white trimmed blue tunic and glinting silvery buttons of an uniform Ukitake did not recognise, before the light along the torn edges pulled it back together, hiding the Primera's human body from view.

Ukitake choked, air still refusing him – his next parry was slow, and the angle of his blade too narrow; rather than immediately slipping outwards and away, as all other strikes before it, the scalding reiatsu lingered on the blade. Pressing his entire left forearm across his chest, Ukitake shook his right arm, willing his own reiatsu to course along the weapon's edge, and cleanse it.

The shroud's motions slowed, its strands drifting apart of their own volition. No more than the gun's dark muzzle, with its delicate, golden incrustations, glinted in the darkness, and this time, the energy that had begun to grow was not merely warm and fast. The intensity of the gathering reiatsu was tenfold that of the strikes that had come before – aggressive reishi particles scraped at Ukitake's skin, and though a trickle of air mercifully found its way into his chest, it burned, rather than soothed. Nonetheless, he repressed the cough, forcing himself to breathe in yet again, and telling his body that the pain was merely an illusion, a trick of his imagination…

_A weakness of his will._

Ukitake willed himself forward, jolting his swords to the side.

White foam gathered and water stood tall, a twenty foot wall of furious reiatsu and tremendous weight forming in the blink of an eye. The Arrancar fired, but his fanned out attack dissipated into no more than scalding vapor. For the first time, the darkness drew cautiously back, beginning to retreat from the flavor of Ukitake's willpower; shaped by wind, water rose tall, guiding the motion of the lightning which crackled above, and extended its burning limbs along the length of the nascent whirlpool.

It all moved together in one: water, electricity and howling winds opened their cold, inescapable embrace, and engulfed the Primera. Water rendered the lithe silk heavy, while lightning ripped at it from all directions – trapped, and at the mercy of the winds, the shroud wailed in its many voices, writhing within the seemingly inescapable confines of the tornado.

'Works better and better every time,' Shunsui said, attempting to smile and pressing his left hand into his right shoulder, then looking at his bloodied fingers for a second, before casually wiping his hand and the hilt of his left hand sword on his haori. 'Given with how we never train it…'

He tensed his jaw, refusing to look behind him at Ukitake; he heard the rustle of silk, and the painfully familiar choke as Ukitake doubled over, and he could hear his friend's breath as if it had been louder than the gigantic, perfect storm that his reiatsu had conjured.

_Come on. Breathe in. Breathe out. _Shunsui thought. _One after the other. Come on._

'Bloody hell,' he continued, scratching the back of his head with a gesture that failed to be casual. 'I was thinking I would get burned or punched or cut, or possibly smashed into things, but bitten…I hope this will not leave a scar,' Shunsui casually added. 'Nanao-chan…'

He knew that behind him, Ukitake had slipped to one knee – the tornado held tall, no variation in the firmness of its hold. The dark still writhed within its shimmering confines.

It lasted, just like he desperately hoped Ukitake would.

_If only he would breathe…_

Breath that was louder than thunder and howling wind hitched and stopped; Shunsui closed his eyes and counted.

Instead of breathing, Ukitake spoke.

'It knows me,' he whispered. 'Why does it know me? Why does it hate me so much?'

_It doesn't matter. You need to breathe. Breathe, Ju__ushiro. Just breathe._

Heat stemming from not a hundred, but a thousand of the Arrancar's projectiles burned through the curtain of water and wind, boiling all into heavy mist, then breaking to plow forth through the clouds, in decimated lines. Darkness slipped free, injured and furious, and slithered away from the two Shinigami, giving the brief illusion of a respite.

The silk of the shroud circled wide, between whirlpools of cloud and lightning, and directing itself at one Numero after the other; within its fold, the jaws of wolves, fangs dark with blood, but still sharp enough to gleam in the intermittent lightning, bit into the other trapped Hollow, before the darkness engulfed them, leaving them no time to scream.

Behind Shunsui, the other enemy, the one that nested in Ukitake's chest, also broke free of the bonds of willpower that kept it at bay. Leaning on his knee, graceful white tresses hiding his pale features, Ukitake began to cough, and though he pressed his haori sleeve to his mouth, he could not stifle the sound in his chest. The muscle spasms followed each other at brutally brief intervals, not dry and pointless, but destructively, cruelly _purposeful_; Shunsui shuddered. Though he'd heard it many times before, he would never get used to it – the duration, the intensity, and the sensation that the cough literally clawed pieces of Ukitake's lungs, and forced them up, into his throat and into his mouth…And the thing that Shunsui hated the most, the thing that he hated above all, was that, in all of their centuries and each time he heard it, he knew that no quantity of sake could wash the taste he imagined from his own mouth.

Travelling with a recognizable, dull sound wave, a hot lance ripped past Shunsui's shoulder, coming so close that it burned the edges of his wound, only turning visible once it had passed him. Only now he turned, knowing that he was too late – Ukitake met the blow with the thin iron of his blade angled across a shaking left forearm, but without will and concentration, the motion was not truly a parry. Merely the insufficient intent of one.

Malevolent reiatsu broke along the blade, burning into his flesh, travelling along his arm, over his shoulder to melt into his chest. Ukitake jolted back, the splutter of blood so strong that it burst through the sleeve of his haori; mouth open wide, he heaved for air. Only more blood came.

Shunsui did not care to witness more.

He turned towards the Arrancar, willing himself up and breaking his line of sight to Ukitake – rather than seeing the wailing, shapeless darkness he'd come to expect, however, he'd seen the thing's true shape, and stopped, in a mixture of surprise and fascination.

The torn remnants of a black cape still clinging to his shoulders, a thing that looked like Stark, but wore a shooting eye patch which clearly bore the fiery pattern of Lilinette's mask stood, patiently watching, some thirty feet away. Rounded, silvery buttons adorned the telling blue silk trimmings of a white velvet tunic, but did not hold it together over the chest, leaving pale skin and Hollow hole on full display. The Primera carried not one, but two firearms; with a gesture that seemed completely unconscious, he spun the right one between his fingers, allowing it a few quick rotations before catching it, and spinning it once more. To much of Shunsui's displeasure, the dark cape, which he had hoped was torn beyond repair, continued to slowly shift shape along its tattered hem.

'No, we are not injured,' Stark said, noting the Shinigami's surprise. 'Or rather, no longer.'

'Thanks for carin', tho,' Lilinette added, her voice clearly coming from the ever spinning weapon in the Primera's right hand, but also echoing from the still one in his left.

'What has he made you?' Shunsui queried, taking another step forward.

'_He_? Aizen?' both entities asked, at the same time. She sounded furious – he, merely amused. '_He _has made us nothing. We have never even shown ourselves to him like this; we've never needed to. _We_ are what we have always been, even before we were Hollow. Two shapes, two wills, two minds, one soul.'

'Together. _One_ everlasting and single,' Stark said. 'We always were that; as for this shape…it was _you_ who made us what we are now.'

'Yeah, Shinigami. Quit blamin' Aizen for everying,' the girl added. 'Makes ya sound…irresponsible.'

The gun spun once more, betraying growing impatience.

'You wanna show us anything else, Shinigami?' Lilinette asked.

Shunsui gritted his teeth, not at the question, but at the fact that, all the while, Ukitake had not stopped coughing. In places, thin rays of sunlight had begun to cut through the storm, giving the Numeros army courage to writhe in the web.

'Like your Bankai, for instance?' Stark prompted.

'You're not strong enough to deserve that,' Shunsui grinned. 'We injured you, and all you do…'

'Eh, ya, you injured us,' the girl spoke, as Stark awkwardly scratched the side of his eye patch with his left handed gun. 'But, that don't really matter – we don't claim we can't be touched. Alone, among our own…'

'We are never at lack of means of recovery,' Stark shrugged, and completed for her. 'They all become _us_ soon enough. You, too, will maybe become us, when we are done.'

'We are one,' they said. 'We are one, and this is our power.'

'You heal by consuming the others?' the Shinigami growled, not truly in surprise, but in disgust at the candor of the admission. 'And you sense no regret?'

'Duh,' Lilinette responded, simply, as Stark lowered his arm and tellingly placed his gun across the Hollow hole in his chest. 'So,' she added as he shrugged, 'anything else you wanna show us?'

'We're in a bit of a rush,' both spoke together.

'I want to kill you in the storm, but I will kill the storm with you, or rather with him,' Stark continued alone, pointing his gun beyond Shunsui, at Ukitake. 'It will not matter much; in the end, for me it is better that you die too, for dead men tell no tales. You wanted me to face you before we face him – if you are serious, you have precious little time. Else…'

'You will serve by remembering we let you live.' they both said. 'It is _him _that we want.'

_Just this one, Lilinette._

Shunsui came on, swords open to the sides, and the Primera fell back in its darkness.

The shroud danced around Shunsui's strikes, not even caring to stay out of his reach; the Shinigami's swords ripped through the silk multiple times, only for it to reform each time. With a mechanical click, the guns charged and their parallel barrels pointed out of the silk, releasing a thousand rays of golden heat. The Shinigami rose above them – close to the point of origin, the light was thin and flat, no more than a sheet; just like its sound, it only grew with distance.

'Nothing new,' Shunsui grunted, sending strand after strand of strangling wind downwards, along his blade. His shape thinned enough to pass through a needle, the Primera shot forth through the eye of the hurricane then exploded outwards, in front of Shunsui's chest.

'No,' Stark said, guns held out. 'We need nothing new. We just need a new angle…'

Shunsui vanished from the path of the shot, to once more place himself above the Primera.

'Takoni,' he called; the wind around his sword grew solid and dark, the speed of its spin increasing tenfold. Yet this time, the Primera was no longer caught. The silk receded into the shape of Stark's cloak, whipping about his shoulders as the Arrancar propelled himself upwards, taking aim. Realising that the Primera's solid form was too heavy for the wind to catch, and that this one attack would not serve, Shunsui dropped below the Primera's feet, his haori flapping violently above his head. Its hem was burned by the energy released above; with the same dry, metallic click, the guns adjusted aim once more, light and heat gathering…but remaining oddly still. Then fading, as if they had never been.

'We like it better when you are above us,' Stark's voice said. 'We think _you_ like it better, too. Twice you have struck us from above, twice you have struck true. Let's keep it that way,' he hissed, vanishing, to appear far below Shunsui, and shoot both guns with a fraction of second of delay – one straight on the Shinigami's position, and one angled slightly inward, and up. The shots panned out, tightly closing the cone around and beneath Shunsui; the Primera turned, firing one blind, unfocussed shot, as Shunsui appeared behind him, close enough for his swords, held flat and parallel to rip the silk in three, wide strands, within a split second of the Arrancar physical body's disappearance. Loose, confused reiatsu twisted in pain, but the three strands flowed away, coiling about each other to unite once more, and dart towards a nearby Numero; powerful winds met the silk, blowing it away. It switched direction abruptly, only to be foiled again, and again, as it criss-crossed through the air, seeking a new target.

It hissed and unfolded, before draping around Stark's shoulders. Dark blood had spread across the white velvet of his tunic's sleeve; Shunsui stopped his shadow step just below.

'You've learned how to counter my attack from above,' the Shinigami said. 'It no longer gives me a tactical advantage…or at least, it no longer entices me enough for me to give you one, …'

He grinned, spreading his wide mouth even wider, and wiping his forehead with the back of his sleeve.

'…what should I call you, now, Hollow?'

'You can call us whatever you like,' the two answered.

'Primera Espada?' Shunsui shot.

'We'd prefer if you didn't,' they responded.

'We are Stark,' she said.

'…and Lilinette,' he added, tiredly.

'We do not like being called Primera.' They spoke together. 'We are not anyone's _Primera_. That would imply we belong to someone, or to someone's system, and we do not - we are just, us.'

'Why can you not shoot downwards?' Shunsui asked; he noted that, the clouds and mists converged, then melted and waned around the Arrancar's human body. He'd have to act soon, Shunsui thought – while consuming others of their sort was clearly a Hollow's attribute, the ability of so quickly transforming their reiatsu into his own was a twisted remnant of a Quincy's power. If so, the Shinigami realized, the Primera could probably feed on environmental reishi as well.

The Primera hesitated, then Stark's features sharpened even further.

'It is not that we cannot,' the two answered. 'It is that we do not want to.'

'Why?' Shunsui further inquired, crossing his blades.

'Because we know we shoot very far,' Stark alone answered, suddenly mere inches away. '_Too_ far.'

_I see,_ Shunsui thought. _I see your true colour._

'Monster of the colour - Blue,' Shunsui said, floating away without haste, as the Primera jolted back, blood splattering along the blue trimmings of his tunic and over his wrists; the Shinigami turned around, with equal slowness, watching his enemy press his bleeding, crossed forearms to his chest in incomprehension.

_I am truly sorry, _Shunsui thought.

'I think I will, for one last time, call you Quincy,' Shunsui said, hanging his head and inwardly apologizing for the bitter irony; he called forth a monster of the colour black.

Surprise reigned in the Primera's eyes; as if jolting out of his control, his body fell briskly, causing the shroud around its shoulders to flap above his head. Blood, as dark as the silk, burst forth from his shoulders and cheeks, wherever his skin came in contact with the shroud. The shroud itself bled, the rips that stretched along its length no longer shimmering with inner light. The Arrancar fell to one knee, his cape all about him.

'Gods, I'd wished you would not take two strikes,' Shunsui breathed, in genuine regret.

He'd said the wrong thing, and he'd thought of recalling his monster far too late.

'He-he,' the guns laughed, beneath the bleeding silk. 'He plays a colour game with us.'

Stark grunted in pain.

'Yuh,' Lilinette followed. 'Come on. Lemme play.'

The man leaned his forearm on his knee. As dark spread through his tunic and gloves, his grasp of his weapons loosened.

'No, we're not letting go.' She said. The gun held on to the hand of its own volition. 'We're never letting go.' she hissed. 'Lemme play.'

In the Primera's limply hanging right hand, the gun spun once more. He firmly caught it, and allowed it to dissolve in his flesh, just like his left handed weapon did. White and gold crept over the bloodied velvet, melting it from within, and transforming it into their likeness. Featureless light, carrying the heat of the guns' projectiles, spread at the heart of the darkness and across its silken wings, shaping it into the contours of small, but perfectly discernible young female body. The shield that surrounded her was no longer fluid; one could see the wavering, but still solid edges of its jagged, overlapping fangs gravitating a few feet away and all around young girl's figure.

'You play games with us, Shinigami,' she amusedly said. 'First ya play hide and seek in Stark's shadow, then ya play spinny from the top, an' now you're calling colours to hurt us. Stark's too old an' lazy to like games, but I am not; an' I play this game with Apache – when you call a colour that the other person wears an' whomever calls first gets first punch. It's really nice that you like games. I like games, too. An' I am _really_ good at this one.'

'Go on, Shinigami.' The two said. 'Call our colour.'

Shunsui took an unwilling step back.

_Light has all colours, _he thought. _But at the same time, it has none…_

'Ta-da! Told ya' I am the awesome!' Lilinette laughed, correctly reading the reason for his hesitation. 'We win,' both said, simply.

Shaped but still featureless light tensed and kneeled, ramming its arm into thin air, sending freezing energy out from the point of impact, to swallow all in its path – like the attacks before it, it grew in strength when it advanced, but, unlike them, it was not a fan of closely knit rays. It crept forth like a tidal wave of dark, fine fabric, spreading out to reveal more blue eyes, and steely claws and fangs with each unfortunate Numero it engulfed.

The wolves were upon Shunsui in a split second after, ethereal bodies overwhelming him while posing no resistance to his slashes. Swords slipped through mist, but fangs and claws easily found flesh, tendons and bone. None of them moved for the throat – instead, they focused their attacks on the Shinigami's arms, and Shunsui's fingers unwillingly extended as tendons snapped. His right hand sword fell through the mist, as did the other, within a mere instant. Ignoring the pain, Shunsui shadow stepped away from the midst of the pack, but did not head downwards; his fingers were limp: even if he had managed to break the fall of his weapons, he would have been unable to clasp them.

'Too late to run away now,' the voices said, not from behind him, but from in front. 'We had no fight with you, but you started one with us.'

The girl's thin, translucent shape darted up from underneath his feet, solidifying only for long enough to punch him in the center of the chest with force unbecoming such a seemingly frail thing; despite the fact that he had been projected back for hundreds of feet, Shunsui maintained focus. His reiatsu did what his fingers could not, and, sustained by their tornadoes, his swords flew past him, then, behind him, clearing his path through cloud and Numero flesh alike. The movement helped little, however. The wolves caught up with him, and the pack split in half, running alongside him and encircling him as he came to a stop; they growled, baring their teeth, and inching closer – for the first time, Shunsui frowned.

Then, as if the ground beneath their feet had burned their paws, they yelped as one and jumped back.

'You said just one. The _other_ one,' the girl spoke; the pack howled disapprovingly. 'Ya, I _know_ that what goes down must stay down. I know.' Lilinette argued.

The wolves writhed and growled, pacing around and through each other in agitation, tens of pairs of steel blue eyes still fixed on Shunsui. In turn, Shunsui felt water rising around his feet – he forced himself to maintain his stare straight, but slightly moved his sandal, to acknowledge the sensation was not an illusion. Sure enough, he heard clear water rippling as his foot moved; Ukitake was close.

The pack howled again.

'Well, ya could at least _ask_,' Lilinette snapped, from all around. 'Go on, don't be like Grimm. Ask, OK?'

The wolves hung their heads in surrender, their contours turning solid. Invisible barrier gone, they approached, cautiously, heads lowered beneath their shoulders and ears pointed in attention. They stopped and sat, looking up at Shunsui's swords, which hovered above the Shinigami's head, before all but one closed their eyes and lied down. The one that still sat up met Shunsui's glance.

'I do not believe in the institution of surrender,' it spoke, slowly and clearly, in Stark's voice.

Drawing a deep breath, and forcing surprise off his features, Shunsui Kyoraku grinned a wide and lazy grin.

'But the other one of you does,' he said.

'Yes,' the wolf admitted. 'The other one of us is a fighter only. It is me who is the killer,' it clarified, looking at Shunsui through narrowed, completely blue slits.

'These…,' Shunsui began, casually offering his torn wrists for inspection; the wolf shook his head.

'They will not keep you out of combat forever,' the wolf said. 'We know that,' the voices spoke together. 'But ya won't recover that fast, either,' Lilinette spoke alone.

'I would prefer to kill you,' Stark lazily said. 'Both because I hate you, as I hate all yours, but also because death is kinder than being left behind to mourn lost friends. We will kill your friend, she cannot stop us; thus, I would prefer to kill you, too.' He repeated, letting the other make of his words whatever he chose.

Shunsui felt neither fear, nor humiliation, nor any sense of defeat; for a moment, he simply felt the other's repressed anger and grief.

_That's right, _he remembered. _We killed the rest, but they ordered us to leave you alive. On that day, we left you behind__._

'We truly did make you,' Shunsui said, in place of an apology.

The wolf continued to stare at him with its cold blue eyes.

'So,' Shunsui grinned, 'is this an offer of surrender?'

The creature blinked. 'It is,' Stark said; the wolf raised its head, and sniffed at the air. 'But, to my good fortune, it will serve you little.'

'Oh?' the Shinigami asked, raising his thick eyebrows, in genuine surprise.

'Because, even if we offer surrender, you will die, and I won't be the one who kills you,' the wolf said. 'Your friend, Ukitake, who thinks he can attack us from behind, will. Ironically, just as he is trying to save your life. You are a man for fine irony, I noted; you should like _that_.'

The pack looked up, looking at him through dozens of pairs of eyes which blinked as one.

'We explode when we die,' the one wolf said, in a low whisper.

It lowered its head, and, in place of an explanation, casually lapped at the puddle that surrounded its paws, and Shunsui's feet – the puddle of clear water that surrounded them all.

The Shinigami instinctively lifted himself inches of the ground and spun on himself, but the time for all warnings was long gone; the tips of Ukitake's swords barely made contact with the crystal clear water, conducting deadly electricity through the entire pack of wolves. They jerked from all joints and yelped in pain, losing control of their bodies; Shunsui started to Shumpo and took a mere, insufficient step away. The power of the explosions caught him with fingers of fire and searing pain, and, a second before he lost consciousness, Shunsui Kyoraku simply thought that _this_ was definitely going to leave a scar.

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Up next - See you tomorrow :)

And, just in case you missed it, it is IVIaedhros that should get praise.


	71. to ashes

Good evening!

As promised, here is the second part of the chapter.

Thank you for your notes on the first part - and we hope for seriously more on the second :D

Just as a reminder, all that is good is IVIaedhros, who wrote this, and let me publish it :) Everything that was made better, was made so by Maidros.

Abstract, well, she is incidental. ^_^

* * *

Note: No character death warnings means just that :)

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Thus, we proceed to Chapter 71 - Where all parts win, or...all parts lose. (And yes, we DO burn all enemies to ash :D)

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The Primera crossed the barrels of his guns over Ukitake's pale neck before the Shinigami could tear his eyes away from the falling body of his friend. Once more in the shape of Stark, the Arrancar did not tighten his grasp enough to prevent Ukitake's head from turning at an impossible angle to watch the burning haori disappear through the clouds.

There was no kindness or consideration for the Shinigami's tortured breathing in the gesture. It was just that Stark enjoyed the look of sorrow and incomprehension in Ukitake's brown eyes far more than he would have enjoyed cutting off that faint, trickle of air.

'Are you counting the good intentions on the path to hell?' Stark asked. 'In our experience, there are many.'

Ukitake's glance sharpened, and he kicked himself away from the Arrancar. The push did not take him far; a single, weak Cero, shot from behind, made him jolt forth, while the pain and too long repressed weakness brought him to bend over, as if he'd been about to collapse. He straightened, expecting that his enemy would be hovering above him, but had to lower his glance to meet Stark's. He stifled the cough in his sleeve, and swallowed the blood.

'I cannot remember you,' Ukitake said, softly, and not gesturing in his own defense. 'I have tried, but I cannot.'

'That's OK,' the guns spoke, spinning alternatively. 'I don't remember ya either.'

'We do not need to remember everything. Stark remembers for us,' the voices spoke, together.

The Arrancar raised his right handed weapon, holding it securely to stop it from spinning; the Shinigami did not move. He wheezed painfully, in and out, over a vast ocean of regret and impending failure. Another Cero hit him in the chest, forcing him one more step back; the Arrancar's darkness floated above him, and the barrels of both guns made contact with his chest, burning his skin. They clicked together, but did not fire – Ukitake painstakingly opened his eyes, making contact with Stark's frustrated gaze.

He'd meant to shoot again, the Shinigami thought. He'd meant to shoot, but the weapons had disobeyed.

'No,' Lilinette said. 'Not like this. If we shoot again, we shoot in _metraletta_. Stark doesn't play with his food.'

'He's not paying attention,' the man growled.

'We want you to die paying attention to _us,'_ they both said.

'I won't,' Ukitake finally said. 'I cannot, I am sorry,' he choked. 'I understand that I have personally wronged you once, though how, I fail to remember, and I am sorry for that too. I understand that I am denying you satisfaction, but I cannot focus on you; to my last breath, I have to focus on the world below…What good is this to you?' he asked, his words but a faint echo.

Stark's eye narrowed and the guns dryly clicked again. He looked down at his hands in frustration.

'No,' Lilinette coldly repeated.

'He's still pretending that he is trying to understand,' Stark hissed. 'At the end of it all, he's still pretending he wants to know…'

'I do want to know!' the Shinigami said, the fury of the exclamation making his entire body jolt. A few rays of merry sunlight slipped over his pale features, and over his bloodied haori. 'I do want to know, because I refuse to die knowing that anyone or any…thing, could possibly desire or contribute to the death of hundreds of thousands of innocents with no reason, and to no end. Such indifference, such evil cannot exist on its own…It must have a root, it must be driven by something… Hatred for me cannot be the sole reason for it!'

He cringed, with every fiber of his body; as the enemy without lowered his weapons, the enemy within struck. The cough returned, so violently that it made him try to repress it with all of his body; Ukitake dropped to his knees, and the storm finally began to waver, clouds, lighting and rain slowly waning to sunlight.

Its hold on the Numeros grew thin, and one by one, they began to move, at first slowly, but regaining speed and strength with each passing second. A Gillian Cero burst through the thinning clouds, striking below. Barragan himself began to descend, his heavy figure causing the mists to ripple, and his gigantic axe attracting fine lines of electricity; the newly appeared reiatsu caused Ukitake to twitch as if he had been struck, catching the Segunda's attention.

Without hurry, Barragan approached, looking first to the Primera, and then to the barely alive Shinigami at his feet.

'Finally useful,' the elderly Arrancar said, dryly; with that, his attention was spent. He walked away, causing the reiatsu fabric of the world to tremble at each step, then pointed his weapon towards the ground, causing a massive ray of energy to strike at the shimmering, glass encased figure of a tower. Taking the attack for what it truly had been – an order – even more Numeros shook themselves free from their traps and hurled themselves down.

The Shinigami cringed, crossing his swords over his chest and the energy of his push caused Stark to drift a few feet back. It sent a thick volley of lightning bolts across the heavens – still, though the electricity left mists of dark blood in its wake, storm clouds continued to melt away, and the light that slowly grew above seemed to be draining from Ukitake's eyes.

'I do want to know,' he whispered.

He painstakingly moved his head, ever so slightly, to meet Stark's glance, and despite layers of hatred as thick as the walls of time, the Arrancar felt the three flavours that he wished to erase.

_Kindness, regret, and desire to comprehend, to the very last._

Stark felt them, understood that they were real, and knew that if he'd still had a heart, something might have changed in its depth. Nothing did.

'We do not wish the humans dead,' the Hollows spoke together – not an apology, but a dry statement of fact. 'We did not even touch your towers until your companions fell one by one, leaving us with no choice. But - it is not our duty to protect the humans, either.'

'Not anymore,' Stark said, alone.

'It is _you_, and not us who have failed them. In the lassitude of your leaders who allowed Aizen to grow beyond their control; in the weakness of your fallen companions; in Yamamoto's arrogance.' They said. 'Look up, Ukitake Juushiro, and tell us, who is _truly_ standing in the indifferent Heavens? Aizen is not standing alone. Your Yamamoto is with him.'

If Ukitake looked, neither could tell; through mismatched eyes, the Primera watched as the incapacitated captain's body was wracked with enormous, ripping coughs. The bloody explosions continued in regularly increasing occurrence and violence, dying into one last heave.

Then, the rending cough was gone and there was a heavy gurgle. Ukitake leaned forward on his hands, then slipped down to the side. As if feeding on the breath the Shinigami could not draw, his injured storm still hung in the air, while Ukitake Juushiro himself was slowly drowning over dry land, far from the sea.

_Stark…_he felt hot, molten light within him struggling against his restraints, _hurry up an' finish him. He's dying all on his own. _

His right arm lifted the weapon on its accord, but Stark's index extended away from the trigger.

_No__ – this is even better. I want to see him dying. I want you to see him dying. I want him to see us; it will not be over until he does._

He felt her surprise and confused anger and ignored it without any regret; she'd understand, he promised himself, she'd understand later, when he would tell her how much this one, the kind hypocrite, the one with soft brown eyes, white hair, the kanji of thirteen on his shoulders, and moldy darkness in his chest, had stolen from them.

_We can burn in no greater hell than this; we look at him, and we feel nothing but triumph, though we know we should be feeling something else._ They thought._ Maybe that is why we hate him so much. Because we remember how it felt when we too were able to feel kindness and regret and desire to comprehend. And we remember that once we could have let them lead us back to mercy, or hope, or trust, or courage, if enough reason was given. But they took that from us, leaving us with the memory of having had them. It is the memory that burns all else, and fills our heart and our mouth with the dry ash of hatred._

_He is meant to be a god, do you know that?_Stark inquired, with wicked amusement._ Look at him, dying; where is his halo, Lilinette? I want him to know he has none. _

_We watch him, and we are happy, _the joined minds echoed._ We are happy, because we hate them... _

Lilinette's mind reeled.

_I don't like that, _it snapped. _I hate Stark when he gets like this. I hate me when I get like this._

_I know. But – does the hate not feel good? Even if it is us, and not only hi__m that we hate…Does it not fill the void that every other feeling has deserted?_ Stark growled, in the darkness.

_It is just the one time,_ they thought,_ and after this, the hate will be gone and Lilinette can return to filling the hole in our heart. _

_You once said you would never forgive those who harmed you, Lilinette, _he pleaded._ You may have forgotten, but I remember. Just this one. Please. _

She yielded.

_Stark remembers for us all, _they thought, then watched.

Up went Juushiro's chest. Up, then down.

Up.

Down.

They were not the only ones watching.

From the still serene and charged plane of the gods above, Yamamoto had finally sensed weakness in Ukitake's reiatsu; he'd torn his glance away from Aizen's features, and looked down in his turn.

And, as the protector of Heaven under the King acknowledged the defeat of the last thing of any value to him, the truth of the situation fell upon him in its entire implacable and cutting might – he'd erred and risked losing all. The power of the Gotei, which had needed no prop other than faith in the might of its own swords and in the righteousness of its beliefs, had finally crumbled.

No creature in existence should have been stronger than the gods of death, nor should true strength have existed in the absence of loyalty and discipline and faith – yet, Aizen's abominable creations filled the air with the reek of their chaotic energies, while Aizen himself, traitor supreme, stood up to him with the daring of an equal, but an inch from a victory that the very rules of the universe should have prevented.

Up, went Juushiro's chest. Up, then down; up went his glance, towards a heaven that he feared would soon be truly empty.

As if the hundreds of feet between them had vanished, Shigekuni Yamamoto-Genryusai looked into the eyes of a student he had treasured as if he had been flesh of his flesh, and, for the first time, struggled to put all the questions he had never asked himself out of his mind and out of his glance. The questions arose, that was true, a chorus of weeping voices over an ocean of furious shouts, echoes of past failures great and small, that sheer strength had shaped into the likeness of victory, rising now that the power was failing… Shigekuni Yamamoto-Genryusai silenced them all and steeled his glance; not because he had no answers, but because in his turn, and for the first time in centuries, Ukitake Juushiro was not seeking any.

What Ukitake sought was his sensei's strength, and, in filling his duty as commander and teacher, and conjuring it for his cherished student, Yamamoto seamlessly found it for himself. No questions, no answers.

Power.

Power beyond armies.

Power beyond the foundations of the world.

Fingers as old and dry as the wood of the cane they held burst into flame; Ukitake's eyes widened…up, then down went his chest, without the certainty of the next breath, without the certainty of being able to do what he knew was now being asked…in grief and useless rage, Yamamoto's glance called out to his captain, knowing even as he unleashed the greatest power ever known, that his last soldier would understand, and fulfill his own duty to the very last boundary between victory and defeat.

Up…

'Get up, boy.' The sky roared; all encompassing dry, heat rose so quickly that the Primera involuntarily gasped at the contrast to the freezing cold of the dying storm.

Pure flame, white hot around Yamamoto, looked down on them through the growing breaks in the clouds; old man's very flesh appeared to be burning, the power of his anger flowing out from his limbs as hot wind from a furnace.

'I said, get _up_.' The last syllable rumbled out into the air and settled deep in the Arrancar's stomach, like the subterranean rumble of a volcano.

With a final, trembling quiver, Ukitake's cough stopped. The sudden clench of the Shinigami's pallid hands on the swords' hilts was the only warning that Stark received of the attack as the captain's collapsed form blurred into Shumpo. Still, despite the newly acquired focus in his reiatsu, the ailing captain was no match for the former Quincy in speed. The Primera easily ducked out of the way of the sword's hilt, which was wreathed in crackling lightning and pushed forth by the Shinigami's right fist. The attack sailed over his head, the reiatsu back draft still enough to rip at his scalp and send a bloody stream down his face.

The Primera lunged in close, left handed weapon angled downwards and aimed at the Shinigami's skull near the temporal lobe; one single _metraletta_ would have sufficed, but the pistol was intercepted by Ukitake's other hand short of its destination, and deflected to the side. The wide-spray cero burst out in a fan of hot destruction, instantly vaporizing hundreds of hollows still caught in the storm and burning a portion of Ukitake's haori.

'Ha!' Lilinette exclaimed. 'That's the spirit! If ya come at us, we can come at you!'

The other pistol was already coming up; all knew Ukitake had no energy to stop it.

'He he,' she laughed, 'Check it – without his storm, he's like a vampire! Put him in the sun, an' he melts!'

Stark's features reflected the glee in her voice; unconcerned about the lightning wreathed hilt that twitched with frustrated intent a hairsbreadth from Stark's throat, the Primera's finger teasingly caressed the trigger as he pushed the muzzle a little harder up into the flesh just below the Shinigami ribcage, angling the shot into the chest and lung cavity.

'Now you can stop pretending you're more alive than us,' they said, guffawing. Indeed, they noted, the Shinigami no longer gasped and choked because he no longer tried to breathe, and, from up close, they both could sense his heartbeat growing faint, each subsequent pulse weaker than the one before it.

Sougyo no Kotowari's angled outer blade and its lightning did not make the final push towards Stark's throat; Stark's finger remained on the trigger, but the _metraletta_ did not fire.

The cloud canopy shifted, as yet more Numeros broke free towards the ground, in eerie silence. Daylight was bursting through the faltering clouds, falling in scattered golden pillars through firmament, and, in true irony, the Hollow appeared both alive and solid, flesh and metal equally healthy and gleaming, while Shinigami appeared as nothing more than a wasting specter of faded white, a corpse alive only in the fell light of its eyes.

'I never thought I was,' Ukitake said, bitterly.

'Juushiro!'

The Shinigami felt, rather than heard the commanding impatience in Yamamoto's voice, along every bone and every fiber of his being, for a moment shaking him free of all sensation of pain, yet filling him with unspeakable fear. Not fear of death; that fear, Ukitake knew and had learned to live with seamlessly – for a mere moment, the Shinigami let himself wonder if perhaps all things so far, the pain, the disease, the constant weakness, had been nothing but the preparation to this moment, when his own death carried no weight, and could summon no fear. Failure, however, could.

He shifted his glance to the slanted blue eye of the thing he had once wronged, but could not remember; the thing that hated him, but said it hated nothing else, the thing that held its painful, devastating rage to his chest, but did not fire.

'But the humans below are more alive than either of us,' Ukitake whispered again, in honesty that Stark could bring himself to deny, but oddly, not doubt.

The heat rose all around, causing the blood along his features to dry and itch, yet it was the desperate resolve that still glowed in the warm depths of Ukitake's eyes that made the Primera cringe. It was not only determination, though, the Arrancar thought; that he'd become accustomed to, in this one…there was also something else…resignation, acceptance…but not defeat.

There was the absolute sense of _something_ coming.

'I am all but dead, but I need to do one more thing…If you fire, it will not be me that you defeat. Allow me to do this one last thing; allow me not to fail those you do not wish to harm. Finish your fight with me, not with them,' the Shinigami said, softly. 'Do that, Primera Espada, and I swear, I will die doing no more than trying to remember _you_.'

It was Stark's willful, blind and deaf fury that tried to kill him then, as Ukitake involuntarily lowered his glance.

It was Lilinette's instinctual acceptance of honesty which saved them all.

Ukitake's eyes rose once more, and flashed in surrender to fate, trust in a deadly opponent, but most of all, in obedience and willing submission to the thing coming - the energy that had reigned uncontested over a legion of demi-gods and countless souls for millennia, and laughed at all resistance.

_Annihilation._

Stark's slanted eye grew wide in disbelief, as Lilinette forced herself over their combined might. His right arm escaped his control and the gun pressed itself into the darkness of the hollow hole, clearly through to the back.

_No, _the two minds pleaded. _Stark died remembering only failure; this one must die knowing that he failed as well! Stark remembers - he remembers for all of us…_

_It is no good that Stark remembers for all of us, _Lilinette answered, finding her own truth, _if in the end, Stark forgets himself; and, if he does, there'll be nothing to fill the void in my heart._

_We have no fight with the humans below,_ they reminded themselves; the wolves in the darkness writhed, but did not answer.

_He swore, _her mind soothingly promised the pack; the wolves stirred once more, then whimpered and lay down. _He swore. I believe him._

The strands of light which had woven themselves in to the flesh of his arms grew inside his chest, swallowing him fully, then, the fangs of his Hierro followed Lilinette's will and closed implacably around all three, just before the air about them burst to flame hotter and more furious than a thousand suns rising after millennia of night.

_Apocalypse._

Scene Break

Ryūjin Jakka's attack came as a single, great encompassing wall of fire. The clouds were instantly vaporized and the trapped Numeros blown to ash before the flames even reached them. Moving like a solid mass, scalding flame fell towards the sleeping earth, expanding and straightening out, shapeless, and yet as distinctly visible as a large bubble rising to the surface of water. It descended hundreds of feet in a mere blink, roaring inferno turning all creation in its path to ash without losing a single ounce of its destructive energy.

Numeros who were lucky enough to be far from the center darted aside, some still unharmed but some burning alive at each step – Barragan himself was fortunate to be some five hundred yards away. The ripple of energy that surrounded the stifling mantle of fire still caught up with his Hierro as he used his Sonido to evade, and though the elderly Arrancar's shape vanished, the solid embers formed at the contact between his shield and the outer edges of the ever expanding firestorm hung in the air for a moment, marking his trail as if Barragan had been blazing over a carpet of hot coals.

He spun on himself, to gaze at the remainder of his legions in impotent fury and incomprehension; the abrupt realization that a single attack had wiped out his thousands filled his one eye with glowing rage, and he started upwards, bringing his axe in a wide arch to the side. It took all of Findor's desperate strength to stop his Espada from floating back into the destructive area of the ever descending front of flames.

'Your Majesty! Barragan-sama!' the Fraccion cried on top of his lungs, crossing his arms and sword against his King's chest; he did not even hear the sound of his own voice. Still, he desperately pushed back until Barragan swiped him away to the side, with the back of his fist; the irrepressible strength of the Segunda's fury hurled the Fraccion into the trembling, outer edge of the flame. Findor was consumed before he'd even had the time to tear his surprised and pleading gaze away from Barragan's.

It was only now that Barragan gave himself room for pause – not because he regretted this one more than he regretted any of the others, but because Findor had been reduced to ash by the mere aftertaste of the blaze, which was already two hundred feet below him, and rapidly descending towards Karakura Town.

As the distance between the puny humans and the roaring wave of destruction above narrowed, the Segunda's deep frown turned into a satisfied grin.

Nothing, Barragan thought, could possibly stop this. No earthly or heavenly force could stand against Yamamoto's bankai, and the humans below; within but a few more seconds, destruction – the very destruction that Aizen had intended to cause - would be laid upon them. He looked up, seeing that trembling heat rendered Creator's humble smile crooked. Oddly, the sudden understanding of the fact that Aizen worked in mysterious ways wiped the satisfied grin off Barragan's scarred and wrinkled face.

Then, he was swept to the side without recourse.

Sougyo no Kotowari ripped a column of heavy, frozen air from the unseen edges of the sky, weaving it together and forcing it upwards; dense, white clouds, feeding on the humidity that approaching fire turned to vapour, became solid and quickly spun wider, stretching to dozens of miles in diameter. A thick blanket covered the entirety of Karakura Town, and, for a moment, all was still, peaceful and quiet, as if night had simply fallen in the middle of the day.

The heavenly battering ram of Yamamoto's might met the final, sacrificial barrier conjured by Ukitake's reiatsu two hundred meters above the city, and ripped through its center. Every house within area of the impact collapsed, spluttering liquefied glass, while cars that looked like colourful matchboxes were flattened, broken innards of metal twisting and melting around already caked blood. Winds beyond measure swept the screams of thousands of reaped souls through the city; the falling pillar of fire slowed, then blew outwards, creeping ruin spreading around its base like wax at the bottom of a quickly melted candle.

Hundreds more died in their sleep, souls and energies hanging in limp incomprehension.

An arrogant, gleaming skyscraper tipped, then collapsed, windows crumpling within liquefied frames.

Another three hundred and forty souls whimpered as one.

Still, it was not over. The high of the flames and the low of the cold, ceased to explosively mingle and stabilized; for the smallest fraction of a second, the world hung still. Soft, but solid clouds began drifting apart, the tremendous pressure of the void at their center sucking in shards of twisted metal, ash and human souls, but also sucking in fire; the formed body of the hurricane rose, turning into a cup that contained destruction and overflowed with flame. Its gigantic, lazy engine turned slowly - cold air continued to fall while flame was pulled above it, safely away from the scorched earth.

Abyssal walls of solid black, crossed by lightning flashes and fire bursts circled lazily about in an enormous, widening gyre which slowly rose towards the heavens – the wide outer reaches of Karakura Town stood unscathed, in the clear and widening eye of the greatest storm ever seen.

The translucent fangs of their shield broken and bleeding, the Primera was shot out, towards the top of the storm, some fifty feet below the quiet and sunny plane where Aizen and Yamamoto still stood, facing each other. The darkness of the silken shroud flowed over the light, and, in turn, spit Ukitake out to the side in hasty disgust. Stark took a deep breath – the air around him was so filled with energy that he needed no more to send fresh healing reiatsu through his injuries. Cuts closed and burned skin turned white once more, as the long scrapes that had dulled the gleam of his guns vanished, and gold incrustations reformed along the dark iron.

Lilinette spun merrily in his right hand; then, because she was exceedingly happy, she spun in his left hand too.

'Well, at least some of them escaped,' Stark muttered, glancing down; as usual, all he saw was the half a mile wide, dead crater beneath his feet. As usual, all that Lilinette herself saw were the many, wide miles of life that still lay safely asleep on the crater's edges.

'There ain't no pleasin' you, eh!' she exclaimed, lifting his arm to give him a painful knock on the head.

'Ow!' he protested. 'I guess,' he wisely admitted, trying to save himself from more knocks.

'What do ya guess?' Lilinette scolded. 'D'ya think if Barragan got at 'em, we'd be saying the same? An', ya, I know that he still might get at 'em, but…'

'Oh, I _very_ much doubt that,' Stark chuckled.

Less than a tenth of Barragan's legions had survived Yamamoto cleansing fires, and even those were scathed almost beyond repair; of the hundred thousand souls that Aizen sought to send crashing against the gates of heaven, only less than two thousand had risen. And now, Stark thought, God and his faithful archangels would probably have to go out and collect the remainder all by themselves, and one by one.

To the side, Ukitake hoisted himself to his knees; Stark did not turn his head, but lifted his arm, holding the Shinigami in Lilinette's sights.

_Look_, the girl's mind said.

Stark grunted, and refused.

_Look,_ she insisted. _He's keeping his word. He's thinking about us._

Jaws clenched, Stark turned his eye on the dying Shinigami, and steel blue crossed russet depth once more – though in the aftermath of fury and destruction, Yamamoto must have been gazing upon his captain, Ukitake did not look to his commander. He glanced neither above nor below, but simply forward, at the gun that was aimed at his chest, once more wandering through the cemetery in his heart in search of a little, lost soul that still preserved the power of keeping its hatred from overcoming all else – a little lost soul he now truly, desperately wished to remember.

Not in fear, Stark thought, not out of overbearing sense of duty, and not because Ukitake was simply and mechanically trying to honour his oath, but because _now_, only now, he'd understood how much light he, or another like him, had wrongfully buried.

Slowly, his breath no more than pitiful spasms, Ukitake Juushiro forced himself to stand; wiping blood away from his mouth with his sleeve, he swallowed, steadied himself and smiled, in kind, genuine regret and honest gratitude towards two things that hated him above all else, but had nonetheless kept him from failing.

_One __shot,_ the two minds decided. The _metraletta _mercifully blew Ukitake away, and he fell, vanishing under the dissipating, fiery mists before Aizen's laughter, warm, benevolent and sweet, filled the Heaven with serene joy.

* * *

Leave us a note, we would really like it.

And Up Next - In some two weeks, we shall see what we shall see :)


	72. Unravelled

Good evening, everyone :)

Thank you for your reviews over the past couple of weeks :) They made all of our days, and encouraged us to write more and be merry.

As usual, thanks to Iviaedhros and Maidros, without whom I would be small and lost.

Warnings - Some language, and something Stark guessed back in April '08 (but he was in denial, until now). Still, he has to admit he guessed right, in

Chapter 72 - Where everyone is very intuitive. And that includes Grimmjow.

* * *

'Ok, this is totally _not good_,' Lilinette said.

The heat of the _metraletta_ had barely died along her barrel, but their attention towards Ukitake was already spent; although Aizen's laughter was as warm and as pleasant as ever, Lilinette could feel Stark's normally secure grip faltering for a second as his fingers had begun to tremble. With anger, or surprise…Even in released state, Lilinette could not truly tell.

'Let's let go,' he said. 'I didn't want him to see us like this…'

He extended his fingers, but the guns did not leave his hands, sticking on to his palms of their own accord, as is they had been held by a magnet.

'Yeh, cuz it messes up _your_ glorious plan for _my_ retreat,' the girl muttered. 'That I didn't agree to in the first place, an' that I didn't think we were still working towards. Get over it, will ya? You can plan around what everybody else wants, but you can't plan around what I want.' She added, in a brief flash of maturity.

He sighed, but did not argue further.

The Primera looked up, then started upwards slowly and carefully, with a gesture that was almost unconscious, and akin to closely leaning in on a page if one could not believe the words imprinted upon it. Their cautious approach was thwarted by the speed at which Barragan passed them by, eye and weapon gleaming with rage; his passage, reiatsu inflamed and on the verge of attack, pulled the lighter figure up for several feet with the mere after blow of the Sonido.

'Watch it!' Lilinette screamed, shaking Stark's arm. 'Fucking hell!' she exclaimed – but this time, not at the Segunda's careless speed and blind approach, but at the fact that Barragan's axe seemed to be angled with the singular intent of chopping off God's head in a single blow. Whatever his intentions might have been, though, Barragan did not make it far; his tremendous speed and bulk slowed abruptly just about when Aizen's graceful figure was about to come within the reach of the axe's blade, as if the Segunda had suddenly crossed the barrier between two fluids of vastly different densities. He pushed on for a few more inches, jaws clenched in impotent fury – amused by his efforts, the former Shinigami looked his way, grinning in paternal amusement, and, in spite of Barragan's visible effort, the advance stopped altogether.

Aizen tilted his head to the side, like a parent gently reprimanding a small child that was mildly out of line, and, inch after tiny inch spelling miles of utter defeat, Barragan was gently pushed backwards. It was Stark who cringed.

His history with Barragan had not been among the most friendly and fortunate; still, the sight of fury slowly melting into humiliation on the Segunda's features was enough to make even Stark feel a brief twinge of sympathy. As was Barragan's voice, when he finally spoke.

'You had promised me,' the Segunda said, his normally booming tone reduced to a whisper, like his legions had been reduced to ash and his pride had been reduced to naught. 'You had promised that the town was to be mine…'

His advance had stopped, and he'd lowered his weapon, a thousand year old entity reduced to the stature of a child powerlessly reproaching having been denied its just reward.

'You had promised.'

The almost genuinely apologetic look on Aizen's features made Stark instinctively run his tongue over his canines, and rediscover how unpleasantly dull they were.

'You never intended to keep your word,' Barragan said; now, even the powerless reproach was completely gone. The phrase had been so flat it might have been spoken by Ulquiorra.

The Creator smiled, looking mildly embarrassed; without a sound, Ichimaru Gin and Kaname Tousen materialized before him, each standing some twenty feet behind Yamamoto, to either side.

'It's not that we didn't mean what we promised, eeh,' Gin spoke, scratching the back of his head. 'We did sorta mean it – just that we were, ya know, havin' a secondary plan as well. C'mon,' he added, noting that Barragan's jaw had begun to clench again, 'don't be a spoiled sport. No one's ever gonna say this wasn't _our_ victory. Even tho', I gotta admit, Yama-jii did more of tha work than we thought he would.'

'Indeed,' Aizen nodded softly – he took a step forward, and, though his figure was still monstrously large and clad in flame, Yamamoto took a step back. Not in fear of the man he was facing, Stark understood, noting that he'd all but forgotten to breathe, but in fear of a realization that was slowly creeping over the Primera as well.

_Aizen knew all of these people_, the melded minds thought. _He knew how they fight, and he knew how they are. He knew how they would react to anything and everything – he's fooled them before, and he has fooled them again now. That's why he didn't interfere in any of the fights, because…_

_No,_ Lilinette's mind retreated. _He didn't interfere cuz he has us all in hand, an' he knows what we can do._

_He didn't interfere because it didn't matter how the fights ended_, Stark continued.

They did not even have time to feel rage; instead, they took more pointed note of the reiatsu pressure all around them, energy so dense that it had healed them in a single breath, and so intense that it rose above Yamamoto's reiatsu, deceivingly stifling fire to embers.

'The truth is, Captain Commander,' Aizen said, with a little shrug and with no outright irony. 'that, in your presence, I somehow always failed to make myself understood. For a while, I had even begun to think that I was _inadequate_…But,' he continued, warmly glancing at Barragan, 'I think my present company understands me well enough.'

'We do not need a hundred thousand human souls, but merely, their energy.' Aizen continued. 'It was foolish of you to assume that _innocence_ is necessary to open the gates of heaven; it is not. _Force _will suffice.'

He shrugged.

'The same energies that drive Shingami drive Hollow and humans. Though I, for one, find it rather endearing, your stubborn refusal of thinking differently can only be regarded as foolhardy, and it has led you here. I am, nonetheless, grateful; I did not expect that you would really release your bankai, but I was hoping you would.'

'Really sorry, Yama-jii,' Gin said. ''fraid ya couldn't 'ave won this one whichever way ya tried.'

Stark took a deep breath, feeling as if he had been exhaling the fire Lilinette had begun to pour in his veins; he pointedly tried to empty his mind, not think through the meaning of Gin's words…not notice the amazingly similar look of disgusted disbelief that spread over Yamamoto and Barragan's features…

_The man is a monster, _he thought, in disgust.

Lilinette's mind was too shocked to answer.

_The man is a genius,_ he continued, in mechanical awe, and could bring himself to think of no more than the gorgeous, perfect and cruel simplicity of Aizen's plan. Of course.

Reiatsu was undifferentiated; God had proven that, when he had successfully melded Hollow and Shinigami energies…and then, Stark realized, feeling that he was on the verge of a hysterical laughing fit, when he had seen Kurosaki Ichigo…Kurosaki Ichigo, who proved beyond doubt that it was not only Shinigami and Hollow natures that could be intermixed, but human energies as well.

_That's why he sent Ulquiorra on him without killing orders. The boy was nothing but proof, he was no more than further evidence…_

Aizen did not need the humans, he'd never needed the humans – he'd simply needed to create sufficient reiatsu pressure, the pressure equivalent of a hundred thousand human souls rushing towards the Shinigami King's dimension at the same time. And he could create that pressure by releasing any kind of reiatsu – Shinigami, Hollow, human…It did not matter.

_With each one of them or us that died, he brought himself a step closer._

And, the bigger the destroyed entity, the larger the quantity of released energy.

Stark recognized the logic well enough. It was, after all, the leading, natural principle of a Vasto Lorde diet, and conservation of energy in its simplest form. The little Shinigami captain, the one that Ichimaru Gin had finished in one blow…he must have weighed as much as hundreds of humans, the two that Halibel had done away with, hundreds more…while these two, these last two, that the Primera had defeated…

They must have weighed in the thousands; Yamamoto himself would weigh far more – but the funny thing, the truly hilarious thing was the fact that no matter how much the Shinigami would tilt the scales of reiatsu balance, they would still only remain the icing on the cake.

Each of Barragan's Numeros must have carried the energy of dozens of human souls. The weakest among them would represent but a few, but the stronger ones, entities who'd been created from Adjuchas that were as old as Barragan himself, would represent far more, perhaps hundreds of souls in their turn. With a single blow, Yamamoto had killed thousands of them, and set their energies loose – _precisely _as Aizen had intended him to, from the very beginning.

Judging by Barragan's features, the Segunda had grasped the truth a few minutes before Stark himself had, and it was hard to guess what infuriated him more – the fact that his precious legions had served Aizen in well another way than Barragan had been promised they would, or the fact that Barragan was wondering whether he too had been intended to serve by dying to Yamamoto's inferno.

In what regarded himself, Stark imagined that he knew the answer already.

The Primera looked to Barragan, feeling something that resembled sympathy, then willed himself upwards, slowly, as if the bitterness, and the irony of the complete, cynical betrayal had been a physical weight hanging around his neck.

Aizen looked over his shoulder and arched an eyebrow, in equal surprise and amusement; Gin chuckled.

'Well, goddamn,' he said, eyes glittering with amusement. Not minding how close he'd come to Yamamoto, he drifted another foot forward, leaning in to get a better look at the Primera's released shape. 'If that don't explain a bunch o'things! An' here we thought we'd get no more surprises outta ya!'

'Are you surprised because of our released form, or because we survived the bankai?' the two voices asked.

'A lil' bit by both, I gotta say,' Gin shrugged. 'Tho' Captain Aizen had sorta guessed you'd survive much of anythin' anyone can throw at ya, I didn't really think you was gonna make it outta that one...'

Stark did not look at him, allowing the words to slip as if they had been addressed to someone else; his thoughts twisted at the same slow, majestic pace as the storm beneath their feet.

'You stole from us,' they tiredly said. 'You stole from us, and then, you trapped us…You trapped us all, and whether we won or lost, your goals…'

Aizen shrugged, but it was Tousen who spoke in his turn.

'All creation has a purpose,' he said. 'You will serve yours, in life, or in death, as your maker intended.'

Barragan gritted his teeth in momentous effort; sweat dripped off his brow, but his axe did not move. Stark moved his tongue across his upper row of teeth, once more finding his canines were discouragingly dull.

_We will serve, in life, or in death, _the Primera thought. _There is no way out; there never was. He made us all just so that we die for him… _

_I guess that answers all questions, _Stark thought.

_All but one,_ Lilinette responded, coldly, and by the fact that her thoughts were charged with hatred that overpowered fear, Stark immediately understood what she meant.

_No,_ his mind pleaded, as he stubbornly looked in the distance. _No._

Stark could never resist Lilinette for too long.

He unwillingly turned his head, keeping his gaze down, and only lifting his eyes to take Halibel's figure in at the very last moment, inch by inch of a body that he had once found irresistible; Lilinette winced at his thoughts, but did not hurry him towards a truth she instinctively grasped.

Stark only sustained Halibel's gaze for half a second, before once more looking away. It was Lilinette that willed both of them to focus on Apache – hands clasped to the height of her chest, and looking years younger than her age, the Fraccion was holding her breath, just as the Primera was.

'Halibel-sama…' she whispered. 'It cannot be…'

Halibel did not look her way, her green, frozen gaze fixed onto Stark.

'Get rid of her_,'_ she ordered, dryly, looking at the Primera's weapons in an open, clear prompt. 'I won't speak to you while she is in your head.'

Stark ignored her, and pressed the side of his right-handed gun to his temple, allowing Lilinette's suddenly cool handle to soothe his mind.

'You knew,' he said, speaking to Halibel, but not looking at her. 'He stole from us, and he intended that all of us die, and you knew the truth, from the very beginning.'

'Yes,' the Tercera hissed, her satisfaction so great that she did not notice that beside her, Apache had lurched over in pain that was almost physical. 'Yes. I knew, as Ulquiorra knew. And though I asked you and tried to show you, you chose not to see. You chose not to know.' Halibel said. Stark pressed for no more answers.

He met and sustained Aizen's glance, suspecting that his own gaze was as blank and frozen as Ulquiorra's might have been, then sought something to say, finding nothing. His body felt numb of all but the sensation of Lilinette again burning the palms of his hands, and his mind was blank of all but one thought.

_Halibel knew…And though she knew, she followed, offering herself and the things she most loved to you…What more,_ they thought, _could you have taken from us…what more could you have taken from us all… _

'How we hate you, Sousuke Aizen,' they breathed together. Still, Stark forced his arms to extend to the sides, pointing Lilinette's heating barrels down.

'That might be,' the Creator responded. 'But, you see, even hatred is rendered more beautiful by true understanding. Come,' he said, gently waving his fingers, and beckoning his Primera closer, into the tight circle that had formed around Yamamoto. 'It is not all as bad as _that,_' he warmly chuckled. 'I did not plan for you, personally, to die. If you had, it might just have been just…'

'An unexpected perk_,'_ Stark whispered.

'Yes,' Aizen responded. 'I allowed you to choose your gift; you chose as you did, for reasons that I do not understand yet, but your death is not mandatory, and, in truth, I do not even wish you dead – you are _such_ an interesting entity, and you entertain so…We are close now,' he said, kindly. 'We are so close; why will you not take my gift, and enjoy the victory? Come,' the Creator repeated. 'Look at him. The man whose death you have dreamed of for centuries, the one who fathered the monstrous fury that gnaws at your entrails, the man who wiped out your kin, then almost literally danced on their graves; the one who allowed his subordinates to hunt and torture all of yours. He is here, and, for all of his strength, he is powerless.'

Yamamoto's reiatsu flared, rising above the haunting flavor of all the other gathered energies, embers once more mustering the power of flame – and yet, despite the fact that the air around him had once more turned to scalding, trembling heat, he did not move to strike. He simply stood motionless in the midst of his enemies, burning in a hell of his own making.

_The man is a genius,_ Stark thought.

The Shinigami's features betrayed no emotion, and seemed as frozen and as watchful as time itself; still, the Primera understood well enough, and, despite the fact that Stark knew himself entangled in the same web himself, savoured Aizen's trap.

Here, Stark thought, stood a man who had utterly lost, and knew that he had.

If he chose to unleash another of his devastating attacks, Yamamoto Genryusai would _serve_. His strength would probably kill Halibel, Apache, and perhaps Barragan, but, without the aid of the other captain, it would also rain fiery, unstoppable destruction upon the town below. The Primera had survived the bankai the first time, and he would survive the second wave as well, as would the Shinigami traitors; thus, all Yamamoto would achieve by attacking would be furthering Aizen's assault on the King's dimension…only to find himself facing the same dilemma again, and again, against foes that did not need to raise a finger to defeat him, but merely wait for him to defeat himself.

Of course, the beauty of the plan was not only that.

If he chose to let himself be torn asunder by his enemies without attempting to retaliate, Yamamoto Genryusai would _serve_, too. Power that had grown over millennia, the greatest power known to Soul Society since the beginning of its time would be unleashed against the gates of heaven in a mere second, and likely be enough to blow them asunder…or just crack them open…It did not matter.

Victory did not need the crutch of the menial detail; only defeat did.

'Stark,' Halibel called, softly; they heard her voice as if it had been coming from the far end of a tunnel.

Ichimaru Gin smiled and straightened.

'Ain't no point in thinkin' so much, Stark, and there ain't no point to just turnin' an' turning'. 'Specially when ya got nowheres to turn to.'

Beneath their feet, the storm continued to turn, slowly, a half filled cup of destruction that would soon be filled to the rim, and then overflow.

Aizen took a step forward, towards Yamamoto, his focus on Barragan fading as if it had never been; the elderly Arrancar's arm jolted upwards, but he did not swing his axe. His gaze lingered on the Primera for a second longer, then, slowly, Barragan bowed his crowned forehead and took a step forward in his turn.

* * *

'Dude, you look like all of your ships are taking water,' Grimmjow dispassionately remarked.

Szayel Aporro chewed on the words, but did not respond; the pointed, aggressive silence did not discourage the Sexta in the least, and Grimmjow kept in step, shoving his hands in his pockets and grinning manically.

The darkness of the Garganta stretched before them as it stretched behind, with no light at either end. Still, the darkness itself trembled unpleasantly in the presence of Kenpachi's reiatsu, which made the semicircular energy path enlarge to the point of cracking.

'Wha'd she want?' Grimmjow asked, getting to the point. Confirming the Sexta's suspicion, Szayel briefly looked towards Neliel Tu, who was walking by Ishida's side; it was the Quincy, and not the female Arrancar to sense the glance and coldly look over his shoulder in return.

Szayel Aporro shifted his glance.

'Go away, Grimmjow.' He said, dryly. 'Go speak to an intellectual peer – I might have a mineral agglomeration, otherwise known as a rock, somewhere in my pockets to offer you, in case Kurosaki is too busy. Leave me be.'

'That bad, huh?' the Sexta sneered, not minding the insult.

'One might think you are able to comprehend simple language, but you clearly are not,' Szayel Aporro snarled. 'Maybe further simplification will help. _Fuck off, Grimmjow._'

'Mhmm. Fo' sure,' Grimmjow responded, looking at Szayel Aporro through the corner of his eyes. 'That supposed to impress me?'

Szayel Aporro stopped, clenching his hands behind his back and attempting to sustain Grimmjow's searching glance with cold indifference.

'No,' he said, barely repressed aggression shining behind the frames of his mask. 'It is supposed to make you go away.'

The Sexta took in Szayel Aporro's anger with a note of careless amusement, then picked the one thing to say that he knew would push the Octava over the edge.

'Szayel Aporro,' he drawled, 'when you're pissed, you look _exactly_ like Illfordt. Only difference is,' he added, in the same careless tone, and catching Szayel's wrist before Fornicares could make it two inches out of her scabbard, 'that on the best of days, Illfordt could probably kick my teeth in, whereas you can't even ruffle my whiskers without your contraptions. Down, boy,' he hissed, sensing that Szayel's grip on Fornicares' hilt had not lessened. 'Ya don't wanna be drawin'. Ya wanna be speakin'.'

The contact broke abruptly, and Grimmjow strode forth precisely as Byakuya sensed the change of flavor in their reiatsu and looked over his shoulder. All he saw was Szayel Aporro standing alone, a few feet behind the group, and looking flustered for no apparent reason. The Shinigami frowned, and turned away.

Szayel Aporro followed, after a few seconds of resentful consideration, and knowing that as soon as the Shinigami's attention was spent, Grimmjow would once more fall out of step with the group. The Octava did not look up when Grimmjow did.

'So,' the Sexta prompted. 'Ya were tellin' me.'

'Grimmjow…'Szayel Aporro sighed.

''K,' the teal haired Arrancar said. 'Ok, let me tell ya what I was looking for. The original question may have been just a tad _wide_ in scope.'

Szayel looked up, golden eyes not theatrically wide, but narrowed in surprise and attention - as Grimmjow had expected.

'Ya know, Szayel Aporro,' the Sexta chuckled. 'Ya got a fetish for language, dude.'

'No, I merely surprised every time that you demonstrate you posses a vocabulary that spans more than growling and cursing,' Szayel bit back. 'This hardened ghetto gangster business must take a lot of practice.'

'Yeh, well, I'm thinkin', no more practice than pretending you ain't got two balls on ya,' Grimmjow shrugged. 'Unlike you, butterfly, I can sorta see behind other people's pretences; you, on the other hand, are stumped by language so much it's freaking hilarious. So, let me break it down for ya – you're not the type to look pissed. In fact, the more pissed you are, the less pissed you try to look, an' the fact that you're lookin' real pissed off now tells me that whatever it is, it's gotta be big, else you'd be able to hide it an' go flirt with Abarai.'

'Unlike Illfordt, Grimmjow, I find I can subsist quite well without an encouraging pat from the leadership,' the Octava sneered.

'That ain't what I'm offerin',' Grimmjow answered. 'An' I ain't the boss of you, just like I wasn't his boss either. If it makes ya feel better,' the Sexta shrugged again, 'the only reason why I wanna know whatever's got your feathers ruffled is cuz I wanna be able to react to it when the shit hits the fan. For my own benefit, an' not for yours. Does it have to do with Stark?'

'What else would it have to do with?' Szayel Aporro relented; to his surprise, Grimmjow did not press further.

'Mmkay,' the Sexta nodded, considering the information. 'An' how likely is it that it will make cherry blossom boy get seriously fucking unhinged, if he finds out about it?'

'Very,' Szayel Aporro responded, dryly.

Grimmjow laughed out loud, not caring for the surprised and suspicious glances he drew; shaking his head, he looked at the Octava outraged features, and the blush that had coloured Szayel's cheeks into a shade that closely matched that of his hair made him laugh even harder.

'Dude,' he articulated between wild chuckles, somehow managing to pat Szayel Aporro on the shoulder though the Octava had taken a quick step to the side in obvious disgust, 'you are seriously sumthin' else. It's not enough that you set yourself up for Stark to step on your head – which he will, in the very likely event that plan A will flop an' you won't be able to kill him, now you're setting yourself up for Kuchiki to step on your head too. That's awesome!'

'Try not to look too displeased by the possibility,' Szayel smirked, 'but at least to refrain from dancing until someone actually _does_ step on my head…'

'Nah,' Grimmjow shrugged. 'I ain't necessarily lookin' forward to it. An' it's good that I weaseled it out of ya, so I can keep an eye on you when Kuchiki goes medieval on your sorry ass.'

'I neither solicit nor require any…'the Octava began hotly.

'You're on your own with Stark, tho',' Grimmjow briskly cut him off; Szayel remained quiet, visibly chewing on the Sexta's words.

'Your offer of assistance with the enemy I have well in hand warms my heart and unclogs my pores,' Szayel muttered, at length. 'Does it not occur to you that I already have information about Kuchiki's bankai?'

'Yeah, but you got nothing on the woman captain's bankai, and I doubt you can play the same trick twice on Kenpachi,' Grimmjow said, slowly. 'Also, I reckon that we're gonna come out in a world full of new an' exciting Shinigami, dude. It ain't only Kuchiki you need to worry about.'

Szayel did not acknowledge the fact that Grimmjow was right with anything more than not contradicting him, but was visibly uneasy in the silence that followed; though his features had straightened and he looked far less destitute than he had but a few minutes before, the Sexta could feel the disorder in Szayel's energy, and kept stubbornly silent, enjoying the other's inner confusion for as much as it was worth. The fact that the Octava truly could not read others' states of mind if they did not spell them out was really amusing to Grimmjow, who found that at the best of times, words got in the way of communication. Especially, the Sexta thought, grinning, with people who tended to over think themselves into a ditch.

Grimmjow, on the other hand, could literally _smell _Szayel's thoughts.

'Ya know, Szayel Aporro, the fact that Nellie asks you to do something don't mean you actually gotta do it,' he said. 'I'm just throwing the idea out there, in case it didn't occur to you,' Grimmjow added, shrugging to the Octava's renewed cutting glance.

'I would have thought you'd be pleased by her intervention on Stark's behalf,' Szayel Aporro sneered.

'Stark's a big boy, can look out for himself.' The Sexta answered.

This, however, did not need to be spelled out.

'You do not think that I can kill him,' Szayel said, dryly.

'Nope,' Grimmjow responded, in an equally dry manner. 'Sure, you can masterfully plan for it, and have the little Quincy playing decoy, but…Nope. And I think that if you actually try, you're gonna get squished before you even see it comin'; if I were you, I'd be thinking about that, not whatever it is that Nellie girl wants.'

'You know, Grimmjow,' the Octava began, angrily, 'it is not that I seek to comprehend whatever void must be looming inside your skull, but – how exactly do you see the end of this unfolding? Do you genuinely think that Stark will survive this?'

'He tends to survive everything, dude,' Grimmjow replied.

'So do I,' Szayel menacingly said. 'So do I.'

'Yeh, Szayel Aporro, but he does it in a grand way. You just sort of…'

The Sexta did not waste much time in finding the correct word; the disgusted expression on his features and his shrug spoke well enough.

'Wanna know what I think?' he innocently offered, a second later.

'Not particularly,' Szayel Aporro cringed; amusingly enough, Grimmjow took the expression for encouragement and grinned wide.

'I think ya should not pick fights with things that are seriously bigger than ya. Don't make a business out of what's not your business, and just stay the fuck away from Stark. Don't jump him, don't help him, just stay the fuck away…'

'There _must_ be a void between your ears,' the Octava spat, 'and my only true curiosity lies in how come your face doesn't implode…'

'Strong cheekbones,' Grimmjow responded, pointing at his face.

'Do you understand that so good an opportunity for killing Stark will never arise again?' Szayel continued, in a low hiss. 'Do you not wonder what will happen in the aftermath of this, if we all magically survive? Because the only question in my mind, Grimmjow, is whether he will go for you and Neliel Tu before he comes for me, or he will spare himself the aggravation of me getting in his way where Neliel Tu is concerned, and just go for me first.'

'I think you're thinking yourself a tad more appetizing than you really are, dude,' the Sexta shrugged.

'It's not a question of that,' Szayel Aporro smirked. 'If anything, history informs that Stark prefers his enemies slightly undercooked, if you grasp my not too subtle hint. And he already knows I actively hate him.'

'True, that,' Grimmjow answered, this time, agreeing in earnest. 'Heh, it sucks to be you,' he concluded; the Octava ignored him.

'So, just to bring this conversation to an end, it is not that the thought of not doing what Neliel Tu asked me to do has not naturally occurred to me, Grimmjow,' Szayel muttered. 'It has, and I have not the most minor intention of deviating from the original plan.' He added, in a low whisper. 'He is a traitor to an uprising he incited, and I will not do even the most minor thing to assure he will not die.'

'But by the looks of her, she thinks ya will,' the Sexta said.

'Yes, and though having her ask made me rationalize pain in a manner I found quite stunning, for reasons I hope I do not have to remind _you_ of, I agreed. Not because I intend to keep my word, but because the belief that I shall will keep her from getting in my way in any significant manner,' Szayel answered.

Once more, Grimmjow attentively considered the information.

'Won't score you no brownie points,' he said, questioningly glancing at Szayel. 'Before or after. If there is an after.'

'That is the least of my concerns,' the Octava responded, swallowing dry. 'I do not fight battles I cannot win; it is detrimental to my focus. What I intend to do, with or without Neliel's approval, is to make sure that I make the best out of the opportunity I am given, and assure that Stark will cease present a danger to myself and…and _others_.'

'Even if said _others_ are likely to try and step on your head after, huh?' Grimmjow asked, with a wide grin.

'Nothing will have changed in that particular situation, then,' Szayel Aporro answered, and though his voice had carried no expression, the Sexta could imagine hearing the resignation within.

'It _really_ sucks to be you,' Grimmjow said, with no ironic undertone.

Szayel Aporro swallowed dry, and stubbornly glanced forward.

'You killed Neliel Tu in your other life, didn't you,' Grimmjow said, slowly and quietly; it was not really a question. Szayel Aporro briskly raised his chin, 'Or Illfordt did.' The Sexta continued, in the same soft tone.

He looked at the Octava, but for, an eerie moment, in the semi obscurity, had the impression of seeing Illfordt by his side, or rather…an alien, frozen rendition of a man he had known well, something, that, for once, Grimmjow could not intuitively read.

Light laced the edges of the darkness ahead.

'It was not Illfordt.' Szayel Aporro said. He straightened, giving the Sexta the sudden realization of the fact that for however frail, the Octava had been taller than his brother. 'Don't get in my way, kitten. Just - don't get in my way.'

'This conversation is over.' He concluded, then hastened his pace, heading into the light.

* * *

Up Next - Another one bites the dust.


	73. The Mighty

Good evening, all - and welcome back to our show.

I apologise for the long delay, this chapter was excruciatingly hard to write. Would not even have pulled through without your kind support, and Maidros and IVIaedhros having my back :)

So, thank you all; your input is, as always welcome and very desired,

On

Chapter 73 - Where the mighty shall fall. (Yes, that is a character death warning)

_

* * *

_

_Shatter, Kyoka Suigetsu._

Cascada's blue, shimmering pillar was instantly turned to scalding vapour; white, puffy clouds rolled off to the sides, almost solid in their density. They were quickly torn asunder by dark, cold breath, which broke upon Yamamoto's fiery aura just as the water had, and fans of light crisscrossed through the air, bending awkwardly outwards before melting into the greater light. Ryujin Jakka's aura simply lashed its burning limbs out, rendering all three attacks meaningless, just as it had every attack before them.

Gin came up from the side, seeking the elderly Shinigami's blind angle – Shinsou's blade extended though the flame, for an instant looking as if it had been sharply bending in its advance. Yamamoto was not fooled by the play of light, and the entire mass of flame that engulfed him shifted violently to the side as Ryujin Jakka's handle came to stop the blow, so fast that Halibel, who'd stood in the direction of the movement used Cascada to desperately push herself away. The vapor masked the next shift – though Shinsou's blade had not retreated, another sleek edge pushed forth through the flame, as long and eerily cooked, but as precise as the first.

Yamamoto's next parry sent a pillar of fire up, towards the sky; it blossomed and grew, blotting out the sun for dozens of miles, and casting gigantic, wavering shadows over the city. The first blade continued its push. A third one appeared from below, mockingly inviting the counter.

Flame and brimstone spun, wrapping about each other and about Yamamoto's figure before he vanished from sight, leaving the three melting and dripping blades pointed at thin air – still, the Shumpo had not been able to hide his movement. Within the immensity of his reiatsu, the trail of the shadow step spread out, setting the surrounding reishi alight and gathering the shape of gigantic wings.

Lengths of chain and cold breath met the movement, darkness hooking the wings back and growing within them to tear them asunder. For a moment, Ryujin Jakka's aura could not keep up with the speed of the shadow step, and Yamamoto's figure stood clear of the flame, gigantic shoulders straight, white beard whipping across his broad chest and fiery blade extended to the side.

_A perfect target._

The Primera's figure appeared as no more than the dark shadow of the _metraletta_; the wings of flame flapped furiously forward, quashing the thousands of projectiles into a single thin line. Five equally distanced glints of light appeared around the Arrancar's dark figure, instantaneously stretching into five sleek, cutting blades, which gave the eerie illusion of an opening tunnel. The iron sizzled in the smoldering heat, but, quick as lightning, the swords closed in from all directions, angling to meet in Yamamoto's flesh.

The Shinigami snarled and whipped his arm forward; wave upon wave of flame, controlled by monstrous willpower and driven by rage, spread thinly outwards, in an ocean of destruction – Barragan was thrown back, away from the brunt but the Primera was swallowed by it before he could make a single attempt at withdrawing, cutting a hopeless, ephemeral limb of darkness before vanishing completely. A few dozens of feet outwards, the oncoming hell fire dispelled Ichimaru Gin's protections; white cloak still about his shoulders and grin still splayed on his features, he appeared briefly only to suffer the same fate and be engulfed in the overflowing fires, which poured onwards for a moment longer, splitting and waning as they stretched into the horizon.

Jokkaku Enjo's scalding circlet closed around his enemies, then flared up, sealing the two in from above, as all the surrounding fires concentrated towards it, strengthening its walls.

To no avail.

The flames drew aside, bending sideways, and clearing away. The silk of his haori flapping about his figure, but not catching fire, Ichimaru Gin casually waved his hand to the side, closing the pathway as he had opened it; he walked out, unscathed, and still grinning from ear to ear. The dome itself stood for a few more seconds, writhing, and yet solid and immobile; ripples of dry heat spread around it, making the sky and clouds all around seem liquid. Its colours shifted abruptly – white hot forced the ceiling and boundaries of the dome outwards, stretching them to the limits of their endurance. Dark cracks stretched across the light, wrapping around the flames, until tattered, cold curtains of darkness surrounded the entire enclosure. They stretched up into a thin pillar, stifling the flames without recourse.

'Meh, Yama-jii,' Ichimaru Gin spoke. 'That din' do much tha first time 'round…'

The Primera materialized a step beside him, skin untouched by the heat and dark, torn mantle falling heavily around his shoulders. He scratched the side of his mask with his right handed gun, and then, sustaining Yamamoto's incredulous glance, shifted his chin just enough to the side to breathe out a small puff of white smoke.

'You oughta know better than ta try that again,' Gin said.

Alongside him, the Primera shrugged, then raised both pistols.

'We don't think he's a fast learner,' the Arrancar observed casually.

Ryujin Jakka's aura concentrated forth, ready to meet the attacks.

Beams of focused light flashed against the darker blue background of the sky, and the image of Ichimaru Gin was scattered to shimmering dust. The Primera did not even have the time to turn and look behind – but, if he had, he would have been looking in the entirely wrong direction. The opponent had already shifted angle.

The blow that shattered the Primera into a myriad of sparkling particles came from directly above. Yamamoto looked up, catching no more than a glimpse of a sleek figure, clad in full white.

'I can expand upon that, Yamamoto Genryusai,' the figure hissed, even as it vanished from view.

It crossed straight through the Shinigami's shield, blue, trembling aura slipping seamlessly through the flame that stretched over his head.

'You are _not_ a slow learner.' It hissed again. 'You simply never learn.'

Barragan rose to meet the new threat, the speed of his movement causing the wind to whistle eerily through his empty, crowned skull; Halibel rose behind him, Cascada protectively encasing her figure. The figure stopped in mid movement, hesitating between opponents, and allowing Yamamoto, who was slowly turning about, to finally see it in full – the Shinigami frowned once more.

Clad in telling white, with a small crossbow that seemed to be made of no more than blue light attached to his right wrist, and the bundle of Steelen Schneider hanging on a fine ring on his belt, Ishida Ryuken stood undaunted between the rising, crushing energies of his two enemies.

'Human insect,' Barragan noted, with a mixture of amusement and disgust; he stopped moving.

Instead, grey, thick mists began swirling around him, its particles buzzing and twisting about each other like a swarm of flies. The sweet, sickening smell of rotting flesh rose with them, permeating the air, as if softening it and preparing it for the swarm's advance.

'You think you can stand against us?' the Segunda asked, inching forward.

'I already am,' Ryuken answered dryly; the _respira_ burst forth, surrounding Barragan from all directions and stretching in all directions, all reishi moving as one. Roaring waters blasted out from behind, thinned to a solid spear. The Quincy adjusted his glasses, and lowered his bow. The attacks met implacably upon his figure, with force and fury that caused the heavens to shake.

Halibel's waters were scattered into fine mists at the point of impact; Barragan's _respira _progressed, splitting to the sides of the shimmering pillar. Unstoppable corrosion, pressed forth from the front but also biting from above and below overpowered Cascada in the blink of an eye, then united into a single, grey front.

Cursing, the Tercera spun on herself, to find the wall of flame at her back was as all-encompassing and unyielding as the creeping ruin she had been facing. She darted upwards, trails of gold intermixed with blue surrounding her figure, but she was not fast enough; decay overtook her a split second before succumbing to fire in its turn.

Barragan looked up, a single blink of an eye too late, and the delay simply left his empty eye sockets staring blankly at impending doom. Blinding blue light entered his skull, and was eerily projected outwards, along all cracks and bone joints, escaping between his teeth and under the empty lower jaw, before bone was ground to dust from within and Barragan was no more.

Ishida Ryuken did not stop to savour the victory.

He adjusted his aim, but dematerialized his bow, raising both palms at the height of his chest, and allowing energy to gather between them before extending his arms to project it at thin air. His crossbow reappeared before the massive explosion encountered its unlikely target, hundreds of un-aimed projectiles ripping through the shattered wreckage of invisible protections.

The massive blade of the true Barragan's axe deflected dozens of the arrows to the side; Tiburron's _gota _turned further dozensback towards Ryuken. As if he'd expected the counter, promptly switched angle and ceased firing in blind – a single arrow, carrying the strength of the hundreds that had just flown out cut through the air with momentous speed and precision.

Ichimaru Gin's hand whipped to the side, catching blue light between index and middle finger, and stopping the Quincy's arrow a single foot before it entered Aizen's chest; eyes closed, and features serene, the Creator continued to stand unimpressed by the struggles of others, Kyoka Suigetsu floating at the height of his slightly tilted forehead.

Though Gin's lips still drew out to form a cutting crescent moon, for this time alone its corners were pointed downwards.

''xplain', he bitingly commanded, stretching his arm and the projectile it held towards the Primera, who stood a few feet by his side, spinning both guns in rapid succession.

'Erm, what can I say?' Stark shrugged, lazily scratching the back of his head, the calm in his voice and the slowness of the gesture deeply contrasting the shameless amusement in his eye. 'Complete extermination of the Quincy – yet another _epic_ success?'

'Good one!' Lilinette agreed, in a crystalline giggle. Ichimaru Gin was less than amused.

'Ya think you're pretty funny, dontcha,' he snarled.

'Actually, Lilinette thinks we are. Stark has almost no sense of humour left,' the Primera responded.

'How'd he see through the hypnosis?' Gin snapped. 'Don't play games with me, Stark, I'm not in tha mood…'

'Yes, yes, we can see how the presence of the one type of creature who actually erases spirit energy rather than releases it might make you slightly nervous,' the Primera conceded. 'Gods forbid, if he killed one of us, better yet, if _he_ killed Yamamoto…'

The Primera let the phrase drift, assessing its impact on Gin, but though the grin did not return, the Shinigami's features reveled no further emotion.

'But we have no idea how he saw through the hypnosis,' they completed. 'There is no Quincy skill that should enable him to do it; Stark's best bet is that he fired in blind and hoped to hit something.'

'Sorta like I normally do,' Lilinette concluded, while Stark shrugged again. 'Or maybe he wasn't looking when Aizen, er, Aizen-sama, of course, cast it. Tell Aizen-sama to cast it again, I liked it. Loved that smoke to the side after swallowing a whole lot of fire bit, it was really _you._' She added, obviously addressing Stark alone.

Gin looked up, and his quick exchange with Tousen did not go unnoticed, in spite of the quick reaction that followed. The hypnosis would not be re-cast, the Primera thought, with an inward smirk. Aizen was concentration on something else.

'Stark,' Tousen commanded dryly. 'Barragan. You have your target. Yamamoto…'

'No, thanks,' Stark refuted, though Barragan had already swiped Arrogante to the side, preparing for his true release. 'I think I am much better suited keeping an eye on my twice removed cousin.'

'Ha?' Gin snarled. 'An' why d'ya think that is?'

Ryuken Ishida vanished; Tousen barely turned his head. To his credit, Ichimaru Gin turned towards Aizen. In turn, Halibel extended Tiburron to the side.

None of it mattered; the sharp blue arrow that had been intended for Aizen's back melted into the fluid, cold darkness of the Primera's cape.

'Because I am the only one who understands Quincy do not really wait for the enemy to regroup, before striking,' Stark lazily said.

Frowning, but not losing focus, Ryuken disappeared from sight just before dark silk had totally engulfed him; the speed that had trumped the illusion of Barragan was insufficient in this case, however. He reappeared only briefly, before darkness reached for him with its fluid, inescapable strands, and dragging him downwards, out of sight.

Barragan, Halibel and Tousen moved forward as one, the trails of their energies darting in opposite directions and arching outwards, only to converge on the flaming horizon. It was only Ichimaru Gin that remained at the Creator's side, and, in stark contrast to the momentum of the world around him, took his time before looking up, into the distance.

The line of the Garganta stretched out thinly, as did Ichimaru's smile.

Behind him, though he still had to open his eyes, Aizen smiled too.

* * *

For long minutes, there was nothing but silence, and they all stopped short.

Thin, wavering pillars of smoke still rose from the horrendously contorted rubble, as if the scorched wasteland below had been slowly bleeding out towards the heavens. The pull of the tornado still caused ashes to swirl in wide circles about the contorted figures of buildings, and slowly stoked long stretches of glittering embers back to life.

Tall flames wavered nearby, rising and falling, like the swell of a monstrous tide, but though the gigantic reiatsu swept over the world, its presence was powerless to conceal everything else: the others' pointed absence, the tremendous pressure of the energy that was pushing against the sky, but, above all, it could not conceal the faint, yet undeniable presence of the dozens of thousands of human souls, which continued to lie in stasis around the crater that marked the town's center.

Karakura Town stretched at their feet, its own gaping Hollow hole on monstrous display.

Orihime hid her face in Ichigo's shoulder, grappling his kimono as if she had been about to fall; he instinctively put his arm around her, but was unable to tear his gaze away from the sight of the destruction below.

'Impossible,' Ishida breathed, shaking his head. 'This…'

The Quincy looked to the side, attempting to read some answers on Byakuya's face, but the Shinigami's frozen features would yield none.

'Our school,' Orihime whispered. 'My home…Tatsuki-chan…'

Her words focused Ichigo's attention away from the center so swiftly that the boy felt inwardly ashamed – after a few seconds of getting his bearings, and figuring where exactly above his home city they had emerged, he allowed his glance to desperately follow the torn cement ribbons of streets, from the centre of the crater, away towards the thinning edges of the destruction, then into clear, surprising normality. The streets twisted and turned, faster and faster, as did Ichigo's heart – he breathed out in relief, then, feeling even more ashamed of his joy at the fact his family seemed to be safe, while so many others were gone, he held Orihime even tighter.

He did not dare look behind at Ishida; the iron structure of what had once been Karakura Town General Hospital stood, gnarled and crooked, at the very center of the destruction.

Ishida said nothing at all; he simply stared blankly ahead, looking not at the ruin, but through it, as if he had been trying to persuade himself not to acknowledge it.

'I feel none of them,' Isane whispered. 'None of the others, except…Captain Unohana?' she breathed, briskly turning towards her superior. Her face as pale as her cloak, Unohana remained silent. 'Captain?' Isane insisted, her eyes welling with tears. 'Surely, you must be able to feel…someone…anyone…'

Unohana simply shook her head – in denial, or confusion, Isane could not really tell.

'It cannot be,' the lieutenant whispered. 'It cannot…be…that they were _all…_defeated…'

She stifled the hopeless denial with her fingers, and turned away. In turn, Unohana willed herself forward, stepping up to Byakuya's side – her breath was as mechanically controlled as Byakuya's normally was, and, for a moment, she wondered whether the numbness she experienced was the direct result of the breathing exercise, or just another maddening side effect of the stifling reiatsu pressure that surrounded them.

'I am taking it this is not _exactly_ what we were expecting to see,' Szayel Aporro sneered, stepping up after insinuating himself out from behind Kenpachi, and gracefully distancing himself from the briskly unsheathed blade of the Shinigami's zanpakutoh.

'No,' Nemu responded, emotionlessly. 'The illusion is no longer in effect…'

'Yeh, woman, no shit,' Grimmjow snarled. 'Ain't like we can't smell that – the whole place smells like a fucking barbecue. An' if ya ask me,' he added, with a manic cackle, 'meat's been on the fire for a bit too long.'

Unohana touched her forehead, feeling that it should have been unbearably hot, but to her surprise found that her skin was ice cold.

Kuchiki did not turn his head, but he looked to the side, briefly meeting Unohana's glance. He sustained her gaze for a few seconds; she could read nothing in his eyes, however. His gaze was as blank as Unohana's mind felt.

Neither of them spoke, but neither of them needed to; Byakuya simply shifted his glance downwards, toward the two white clad figures that stood unconcernedly between the scorched earth and the indifferent heavens.

Ichimaru Gin looked up in his turn.

'Abarai,' Byakuya commanded, dryly.

He did not speak the rest of the command; he simply vanished to Shumpo, and, as Zabimaru's unwound blade met Shinsou's extended edge, a myriad of graceful and deadly petals scattered against the tall, invisible barrier of a severing void.

'Welcome, Bya-kun,' Aizen merrily said. 'Not a single minute too late.'

* * *

'You are shooting at the wrong target,' the thing said.

Or it was perhaps that Ryuken Ishida thought he had said it; he did not really give himself time to ascertain having heard it.

The other was fast.

A series of concentrated arrows, shot so closely in sequence that, but for the destructive energy they carried, they might have seemed a volley, had each missed their aim by fractions of an inch. It felt almost as if the shapeless Hollow had been waiting for the projectile to approach it enough to give the illusion of striking, then carelessly evaded at the very last second, as if pointedly demonstrating its speed.

Not that it mattered.

The more an opponent advertised of its strengths, the more obvious became the weakness it tried to hide; fast things were only fast because they could not withstand a point blank hit. Equally, if an opponent had speed on their side, there was little point in trying to outmaneuver them, or compete with them at their own proficiency. Fast things simply needed to be kept _still._

Ryuken pressed his palms together, not dematerializing his crossbow, but simply passing its energy and light to his left forearm. He fired once more, as if seeking to prove his aim had not suffered from the change, then started upwards and vanished.

The Primera did not follow, taking pleasure in observing that Ryuken was tremendously fast as well, and all but grinning at the other's intentions. The Quincy was doing exactly what Stark himself would have done.

_Some things really never change_, Stark told Lilinette, and though she was slightly confused, she radiated no feeling that would stifle his brief sense of happiness.

_He thinks he's gonna catch us,_ she reminded.

_We'll let him think he can._

Blue glinted on the edges of his vision, as creeping ruin melded with flame above – the Primera took a step back then another towards the right, allowing Ryuken's attacks to lead him. He did not evade an inch more than he had to, although each time that one of the arrows hissed by, he had to admit that he was playing it dangerously close. The mere proximity of Ryuken's arrows left burn trails on his skin, and though the reiatsu concentration in the air erased the marks almost as soon as they appeared, it was also strengthened the Quincy's arrows.

This one, Stark thought, was not Uryu. This one could actually be dangerous.

He took one last step back, but stopped just before the pull of the Zeichen's center could truly grip him – he lifted his arm, wincing, but not retreating as Ryuken's arrow struck him point blank.

The Quincy materialized just above him, his crossbow once more in his right hand. With the energy of the Zeichen biting at his ankles and the Quincy's crossbow but a foot from his chest, the Arrancar should not have been smiling.

He still was.

'Do we know you?' Stark and Lilinette asked, as the Arrancar tilted its head to the side and squinted. The glow that surrounded the Steele Schneider's hilt wavered, and began to fade.

'That is highly doubtful,' Ryuken responded, dryly. He lifted his arm and shot once more, yet this time, the Primera's Hierro flowed out and stifled the arrow before it could reach its aim. Blue light sizzled helplessly in the blackness, but left an asymmetrical, golden edged tear in its wake.

'Don't keep doin' that. It smarts, you know,' Lilinette scolded; Stark nodded in stern accord.

'You should stop shooting at us now. We are not going to withdraw and step on the center of the Zeichen,' they spoke together. 'We were going to give you some satisfaction, but we're not giving you _that_ much.'

Ryuken frowned, blue eyes narrowing behind eyeglasses with no frames; before the Zeichen took hold, the Steele Schneider were all but invisible, and gave off no reiatsu. Furthermore, even if he had somehow seen or sensed them, the Arrancar should not have known the significance of the pattern.

'What can you possibly know…' he began, stopping short as the Arrancar's smile grew wider.

_Killed a lot of your kind. Ate a lot of them, too,_ the Primera thought.

'We _do_ know you,' the two voices said.

'You gotta be Uryu's dad,' Lilinette giggled, obviously pleased with her guess. 'Ya look a lot like him, or, well, he looks a lot like you. Whichever way that goes!'

The Primera did wait to see if Ryuken had been disconcerted by the pronouncement, nor for a confirmation of their intuition.

'Let's stop playing for a moment, shall we,' they said; the only hint of the fact that the Arrancar had finally gone on the offensive that Ryuken received was the glinting hilt of the Steele Schneider, falling to the side. Surprised by the unprecedented speed and consistence of the attack, which made him feel as if he had been hit by a wall, the Quincy shot in blind, but the arrow's trajectory curved abruptly upwards. The Arrancar's Hierro grew at him from all sides, fine strands of darkness reaching for his wrists and ankles and entangling him beyond recourse, but also forming a protective dark cocoon around both figures; the last thing Ryuken saw before he was completely hidden from the world outside was that the blue of the sky had been overtaken by a tide of pink petals. His concentration faltered, and the crossbow on his wrist dissolved; he did not have time to acknowledge the newly appeared reiatsu.

Nor was it of his most immediate concern.

To no avail, he struggled against the strands which kept him captive, succeeding only in entangling himself further; still, as unyielding as they were, the bonds were not painful, and seemed aimed at doing no more than keeping him still. Yet, Ryuken considered, _he_ would have taken no more than a split second to take aim – it was unlikely that his opponent needed the better part of a minute. He looked up, with narrowed eyes, frowning deeply as he noticed the other's weapons were lowered.

'We have no intention of harming you,' the Arrancar said, in its two voices.

Ryuken did not respond. He sustained the Hollow's stare for a split second, gathering his concentration – then, knowing that the concentration of energy in the air around him would only serve to strengthen his weapons, he willfully pressed the back of his right wrist into the strands that kept him captive, and recalled his crossbow.

The blue light cut easily through the bonds, setting his wrist free; without wasting a heartbeat, Ryuken aimed at his left wrist, releasing just enough energy to cut through the Arrancar's entangling Hierro without damaging himself. Still, despite his speed, he did not have time to aim for his ankles, his movement cut short by sensation of hot metal pressed against his temple.

'This is not your war,' Stark said. 'Do you truly wish to get killed fighting it?'

Ryuken's hand slipped to his pocket, and the Primera sighed deeply.

'I assure you, you will be far more harmed by a Ginto explosion than we will,' Stark muttered, shaking his head with a mixture of amusement and dismay; in momentary surrender to his surprise, Ryuken turned his head to meet the Arrancar's glance. The motion finally led him to take in the other's white and blue trimmed tunic. He frowned, understanding but not quite believing the sight – still, he straightened his shoulders and allowed his crossbow to dissolve. In response, the Primera shifted its weapon away from Ryuken's forehead, and pointed it upwards, allowing the tunic's sleeve to slip minutely off Stark's wrist, and display the tattoo which still decorated it.

Ryuken's lips thinned in disgust.

'What do you want?' he asked.

'We will let go of you in a few seconds,' the Primera said, slowly. 'Before that, however, we'd like to explain what is happening, so that you can make your own decisions on what your next actions should be. You can, of course, choose not to believe us, and Stark will not blame you if you do not.'

'Yamamoto and the Gotei have already lost this,' Stark began, speaking alone. 'You can no longer help them; they lost the moment that Karakura Town was brought back from Soul Society. All of their actions from that point on did no more than aid Aizen in achieving his goals...'

'Do you expect me to surrender, perhaps?' Ryuken interrupted, with cold irony.

'The code disallows that,' Stark shrugged 'so, no, of course not. I however would like you to understand that though the Gotei have shamefully lost, Aizen can still be defeated.'

'Your refreshing bout of honesty has nothing to do with the newly arrived reiatsu, of course,' the Quincy said, arching an eyebrow.

'It is not completely unrelated,' Stark answered, grinning and letting Ryuken make whatever he chose of his words. 'I will not deny that the Gotei's defeat and Yamamoto's in particular, was not something that I dearly wished to see. For obvious reasons,' he added, his grin turning bitter. 'I also understand the reasons why you intervened, in the end of all things, though if I were to liken my concern for the human world to yours I would be vastly exaggerating it.'

'I still do not want to see Aizen triumphant,' Stark said, flatly. 'He is, after all, one of _them.'_

'Then why are you in my way?' Ryuken asked. 'I seem to recall you placed yourself in the path of my arrow, to protect…'

'You cannot defeat the thing that we are now,' the Primera said, with calm indifference. 'You should feel that; and if you cannot defeat us, you should feel that you cannot defeat Aizen.'

'Chargin' straight at him is really silly,' Lilinette added. 'Real life ain't like his reflection. You won't get nowhere, an' you'll be wasting time we don't got.'

'Aizen's true goal here is to release sufficient reiatsu to open the pathway to the Shinigami king's dimension. All forms of released reiatsu, be they hollow, or Shinigami, or human, serve him – thus all battles serve him, regardless of who wins or loses.'

'We can no longer erase spiritual energy,' the Primera stated.

'But you still can,' Stark ended.

'We suggest you start with Halibel,' the Arrancar spoke, together, though Lilinette's voice was noticeably louder than Stark's. 'We suggest that you start with her, and continue with Tousen, and we suggest that you attempt to let other encounters fall where they may, but still strive apply the killing blow, _regardless_ of which side is defeated.'

'I am not a scavenger,' Ryuken snarled.

'In that case,' Stark answered, blue eye narrowed and glinting dangerously, 'perhaps I could convince you to impart some divine justice and have a go at Yamamoto. Ironically, killing him would be, by far, the greatest contribution you could make to the cause now. Would you be willing to do that?'

Ryuken remained quiet, no trace of emotion on his features.

'We thought not,' the Primera shrugged; all about them, the hold of the Hierro began to loosen, black silk slowly unweaving itself and letting in the first flickers of light. 'We've told you the truth,' the Arrancar said, softly, 'and we will neither repeat it, nor get in your way again.'

The Hollow turned away, momentarily closing its eye as the receding Hierro draped itself around its shoulders. For a moment, the explosions of the world around him did not concern them and were reduced to the same eerie stillness that reigned in the Primera's thoughts. He registered them all as distant echoes – Kuckiki Byakuya and Kurosaki Ichigo, who wielded only the safe half of himself, being brushed aside by a lazy inflection of Aizen's reiatsu. Abarai Renji, hopelessly outclassed and outweighed by Ichimaru Gin, who did not even think the young lieutenant was worth killing. The deafening trail of Zaraki Kenpachi's reiatsu, making a straight line towards Tousen. Yamamoto, still struggling to defend against opponents he dared not attack in full might – and, amid all the turmoil of battles that did not concern him in the least, the Primera only truly felt the subtle flavor of Ishida Ryuken's Hyrenkyaku, as the Quincy circled wide, once more standing to face the Primera.

_He didn't believe you._ Lilinette thought.

'I would not have believed myself either,' Stark answered, out loud, opening his eye to look at Ryuken's shining crossbow.

'I still might,' the Quincy responded, the light in his eyes crackling as dangerously as the energy that was steadily gathering around his fingers. 'Surely, if what you have told me is true, you should have no objection to offering proof.'

Kaname Tousen's reiatsu flared, meeting Kenpachi's in a deafening explosion – Stark raised his right hand, to protect his eye from the blinding light, but also to disguise a bitter grin.

'You have far more energy than anyone else on _your_ side, except for Aizen himself. If you are honest about your intentions and the means of preventing Aizen's victory, I suggest you should also have no objection to being the first to go.' Ryuken said, slowly raising his arm. 'If there is anything left of what you profess you once were, you should be the first to acknowledge that you have existed for far too long.'

Stark laughed, discovering that he liked Ryuken at least as much as he liked Uryu.

'Good try. But - this is not my war,' he said, letting Ryuken guess the words by the motion of his lips. 'And I have no intention of dying fighting it. Besides,' Stark shrugged, looking up, where the darkness that rose in the wake of Kurosaki Ichigo's shadow step helplessly broke and curved downwards after Aizen simply took a glance in his direction. 'I think it is already too late, and you will soon have more proof than you needed.'

'Gin,' Aizen called, and though his voice had had no trace of urgency, it had resounded louder than the entire momentous noise of the battlefield, yanking Ishida's attention away.

'Yeah,' Ichimaru responded; in the same blink of an eye, he vanished, leaving Zabimaru to stretch and roar in pointless threat.

His sudden re-emergence forced Byakuya on the defensive – the cloud of Senbonsakura's petals converged to stop Shinsou's advance, then quickly whirled, adjusting to Ichimaru's impossibly swift change of direction. Six rods of light intersected on the white clad figure, with sufficient speed and force to not merely capture it, but snap it in half. The echoes of the first incantation had not faded yet when the second one rose, to send a glowing torrent of energy through Gin's body.

One Ichimaru fell, but another rose, its speed coming short of Abarai's reflexes. Zabimaru spun out wide, sweeping the white clad figure away; still, even as Ichimaru was hurled to the side, Shinsou extended through Renji's shoulder. Wincing, the vice-captain of the sixth division used his shadow step to outpace the advance of Ichimaru's blade, and freed himself, only to brace for another attack.

It did not come.

As if heeding an unspoken signal, Barragan and Halibel ceased their intermittent attacks, once more allowing full sight of Yamamoto's flaming figure.

A furious swipe of Kenpachi's sword sent Kaname Tousen falling towards the ground with the speed of a meteor; a sharp glint of blue broke Tousen's fall, as he painstakingly turned, to meet Pantera's blade, then vanished out of the way of the scalding Gran Rey Cero.

Half moons, growing from the center of Tensa Zangetsu's swirling darkness grew to bite at Aizen's path, and powerful, icy winds carried a myriad scattered blades across it.

None of it mattered.

Attacks twisted and waned in the air, melting into the white radiance which surrounded the Creator's figure; at the center of it all, Aizen continued to advance, at a mesmerizingly unhurried pace. For a moment, white light stood facing eternal flame – Yamamoto's aura flared outwards, surrounding Aizen's figure but not being able to hide him from sight. It was the terrifying pressure of the Shinigami's reiatsu that halted all others in their tracks, as if molten lava had risen to drown them all. The air trembled with heat and energy, making reality seem illusive and deprived of real contours.

'Bankai,' Aizen said, and the next breath they all drew was suddenly cool and fragrant.

In a slowed rendition of a candle being blown out, the flame which had surrounded Yamamoto's body was first flattened, then spread out into nothingness, briefly covering the sky and sheltering the earth in its shadow. Then, subtly, fiery red melded with white warmth, and, across all creation, the colours of the momentous unleashed energies became visible, and danced upwards, towards a wavering heaven. Deprived of its aura, the insignificant body of a frail old man fell through the rapidly solidifying weave of energy. No trail of reiatsu marked its path, and, as peaceful darkness grew over the sky above, Stark shrugged.

'That should be proof enough,' Stark said, softly – for the first time looking disconcerted, Ryuken Ishida shook his head.

'Excuse us,' the Primera said, sustaining Ryuken's shocked gaze, as they darted him by. 'We do not wish for Aizen to win. But Stark's been waiting to take this shot for the better part of three centuries.'

Ryuken Ishida lowered his glance, and, just before he raised his pistol, Stark thought that the other man had done so to disguise the beginning of an understanding nod.

Yamamoto's lifeless corpse fell through the _metraletta_ and was pulverized within it, ashes and embers of hatred scattered to the suddenly whipping winds; Aizen looked down and smiled, but the Primera paid him no heed. Instead, Stark pressed Lilinette's handle to his chest, wondering if she could feel that the odd, soothing sensation of peace that had gripped the world outside, had also stretched within.

_Now it is over,_ Stark thought. _They've killed each other, just as we had hoped they would._ _He's gone, and nothing can bring him back._

Like all others, who's also frozen in their tracks, the Primera struggled to look up, at the gold and green wavering web that had blossomed in the darkness of the sky above. Scattered mists of light swirled slowly, expanding from a pinpoint to a vast, circular portal as they drained the air of the offering of released energies; unknown flavours of reiatsu emanated from just beyond, bringing heavy, downwards pressure upon the battlefield.

_And now what? _Lilinette asked, with a tiny, frightened thought.

_Now we hope Szayel Aporro is as smart as he thinks he is,_ Stark answered.

* * *

Up next - We *really* do hope that Szayel is as bright as he thinks he is, otherwise...


	74. Resistance

Good evening, all, and thank you for your kind words over the past couple of weeks ^^ and, as usual, me is much greatful to IVIaedhros and Maidros, who keep putting up with me :)

Opening line inspired by Incandescens', Liralen's and SophiaP's stunning Winter War series, and their heartbreaking 'Ukitake: Waking Up' chapter. If you have a taste for AU, I can not give you a warmer fiction reccomendation :) You can find them over at LJ :)

As for us, well...

No warnings for this chapter...if any more of them get killed, I'm gonna be in trouble :)

Chapter 74 - Where you discover that the advantage of having hit rock bottom is that you can only look up.

* * *

_Koten Katetsu…_

The courtesan moved quietly through a dark mindscape, smoke, mirrors, and illusion not showing themselves to answer the call, but making their presence felt.

_Koten Katetsu, where is Sogyo no Kotowari…_

One approached this time, her sensuous figure dancing just close enough to be guessed; she still did not answer, regretfully bowing her forehead.

_We sense them, _she said, simply.

_The fishes are still swimming_, the rogue continued in the courtesan's place. _The little fishes are still swimming, but they are swimming away._

No, Shunsui thought – the first conscious idea of his own. Still, his willpower was as faint as the wisps of smoke that danced through his mindscape, easily waning within the rest of the undefined mists.

_They wish to swim away, _the courtesan said. _They are tired, as we are tired._

_If they wish to swim away, who are we to hold them back? _The rogue laughed, in the darkness. _Who are we to weave nets to trap them?_

No, Shunsui thought.

The word vibrated powerfully, rendering the strands of mist solid and entangling. The two figures reluctantly stopped drifting about in his consciousness, and reluctantly stood to attention.

_We've had hangovers worse than this_, he lied; the courtesan giggled, and the rogue smirked. Heavy, green smoke crept slowly around their ankles, coming from the darkness beyond and stretching into the darkness ahead.

_Go find Sogyo no Kotowari…Go tell them that they can't let him go._

_Why?_ The two spirits argued in a single voice. _Why would we tell them that? They wish to swim away – maybe he wishes to finally sink this time. Maybe this time he's really tired of fighting for air._

Full awareness of his mindscape had slowly begun to return, bringing with it the unwanted awareness of his body – still, the pain did not manifest as powerfully as he had expected. Instead, it seemed to lurk at a distance, hinting at itself from beyond the ever growing veil of green mists.

Shunsui disliked the sensation, because true awakening was still at a distance, and because the protection deprived him of true input from his body, thus only leaving him to guess at how long it would take him to actually recover. He would have preferred to feel each cut, each burn, each broken bone, even though he knew that the explosion he had barely survived and the fall that had followed had been the most damage his body had ever taken, and he was assured that everything would hurt as hell. Still, the pain would be something that would push him to focus, it would push him to think, not only through his recovery, but beyond it, to the recovery of the others, to the fight that would follow…

_Go tell Sogyo no Kotowari not to let him go, _he repeated.

Koten Katetsu floated closer, regarding him with reproachful eyes.

_What if they ask why? _The two asked, smirking in unison. _What shall we tell them?_

_Tell them the truth, _ShunsuiKyoraku responded. _Tell them they cannot let him go because I am selfish and I need him still._

The swords' spirits did not argue further, but the cold left in their wake when the waned and disappeared spoke of their disapproval well enough. Left alone, in the growing tide of green mist that continued to invade his mindscape, Shunsui waited.

_You should have found him first, _he thought, at long length, placing as much reproach in his reflection as he possibly could.

_He is beyond us, now, _Minazuki implacably responded, cutting all other thoughts short.

* * *

Byakuya's sword arm trembled, as Senbonsakura's blade reformed between his fingers; he struggled to maintain his breath even, but somehow, he did not feel as if he had been breathing at all. The world – his world – and everything that he had taken for granted his entire life had changed more in the past few seconds than it had in three generations.

'Captain Kuchiki…'Abarai whispered, his words going unheard.

Yamamoto was gone.

_I should have come back sooner, _the captain of the sixth thought, instead. _We should not have lingered, we should have…_

The thought grew – at first in his head, then in his stomach, spreading thin, paralyzing ice inside his veins, entangling fingers of self doubt and pointless regret keeping him still. Numbly, he counted enemies, as if he'd hoped that this time they would be fewer, but evidence would not yield to hope.

Aizen still stood on at least five powerful entities – Gin, Tousen, the blonde woman whose name he was assured he knew but could not recall, Barragan, who had been first amid the Espada, Stark…

'Nii-sama?' Rukia breathed from somewhere behind.

He paid no heed to her either.

Once the stifling energy that had filled the air had drained away, Byakuya had sensed twinkles of reiatsu in the world beneath – no more than weak candles wavering in the wind.

The entire world seemed as deprived of sense and purpose as a waking nightmare.

The portal was open.

Byakuya vaguely recalled meeting Unohana's questioning glance and nodding; in turn, she'd turned around and descended, gesturing for Isane to follow. If any were others left alive, she'd find them, and try to return them to battle – a course of action that seemed as logical as anything else under the circumstances.

His focus drifted, and he suddenly felt that he grudged her. The feeling took him by surprise, but also granted pointless relief to the guilt that was growing in his chest. Even in this new world, Unohana had seamlessly fallen into her old role, and easily found her place; Kuchiki Byakuya of all people understood the importance of routine, of repetitions performed with the single goal of keeping new realities at bay…If there were any others to be found, Unohana would find them. She would find them, and she would heal them, as she always did – a tangible action, one that she was adept at.

While he…

While he found himself standing at the end of the world, with no idea of the part that had been intended for him, and no natural role to take up.

Kurosaki looked over his shoulder, meeting Byakuya's gaze – within a moment, the Shinigami knew, the boy would dart forward and to his doom. Because if Aizen had been capable of…of killing the captain commander, Byakuya had sternly pushed himself to think, with a single word, without even crossing swords, then none of them truly stood a chance of defeating him or at least keeping him away from the portal above. The solution, if there was still one to be found, did not lie in direct combat.

He'd have to wait; among all things he'd tried to teach himself through his entire life, waiting was the thing he hated most…Especially now, that he felt his entrails had turned into stone, and the pressure of the others' gazes paralyzed him. He knew all too well that the fiery rage that glowed in Kurosaki Ichigo's eyes was mirrored in his own, and felt that nothing would have pleased him more than drowning all reason and attacking Aizen straight on, that very minute, regardless of his chances of success. In a corner of his mind, Byakuya even wondered whether his desperate desire of wiping the triumphant smile off of Sousuke Aizen's features was not, in itself, a prompt of his impatience and insecurity. In the end, if he'd let himself succumb to them, his painful uncertainty would end – he'd be taking action, the waiting, the others' pointed expectation would stop, and even though defeat and death would probably follow, he'd step up and claim a place, _his _place, rather than linger in indecision.

Yet that, he knew, would do no more than rid him of the pressure and fear of waiting, and trying push through to some course of action that could still bring victory. A head-on attack could only spell disaster – the others would scatter, each facing opponents they probably could not defeat. He'd die a glorious death, perhaps, and his last moments would be free of everything but the rush of combat, prey to his own pains and efforts, but not responsible for the others.

He swallowed dry, the lowered his head, feeling ashamed at the lapse of control.

The fact that the stolen Hollow powers had been shared amid the three traitors was an unexpected glimmer of hope. It implied that Aizen had not amassed all the powers that the Octava's machines could not cancel, and that at least some of his combat abilities could be taken away. By the same measure, it implied that Tousen and Gin could be deprived of their unnatural advantages, and brought down to something that resembled their former levels.

For however painful, allowing the Octava and lieutenant Kurosutchi time to work their odd kind of magic was probably the only way of making sure the three traitors would not go unscathed; judging by the speed at which both had vanished, they should already have been at work. At the same time, Unohana would perhaps find a few survivors that could strengthen the troop, once out of her care. Neither action would buy victory, but neither would spell foolish, undeniable defeat.

Unconsciously, he slipped his fingers under the fine silk of his scarf, and brought it upwards, to take a deep breath through the fabric. It smelled like nothing that he wished it would – there was no hint of the perfumed candles that had always scented the hallways of Kuchiki manor, there was no trace of spring, or cherry blossoms, or the smell of Hisana's hair. Ash and dry heat and the flavor of fresh, vile things had overtaken it all, but he remembered it all nonetheless.

He looked up, meeting Aizen's glance, but looking through him. Unohana and lieutenant Kurosutchi needed more time.

'What is it, Byakushi?' Sousuke Aizen asked, kindly. 'Is the world suddenly too large for one so small?'

Kurosaki Ichigo darted forth, as if the insult had been addressed to him; Byakuya snapped Senbonsakura's scabbard to the side, painfully slapping it across the human boy's chest and stopping him in his tracks.

'No,' he said without hurry.

If Unohana and the others needed more time, he'd have to find it.

'Eh?' Ichigo grunted; behind, Kenpachi's reiatsu roared on the voices of a thousand storms. To Byakuya's other side, Grimmjow Jaggerjaques rolled his eyes and spit at the ground.

'We are not going to attack them,' Byakuya continued.

'What the…' Grimmjow furiously began.

'What we will do is that we will shadow step behind them, and hold a line in front of that portal. We will _not_ attack. We will _not_ move out of formation. We will _not _mount any counter that takes any of us more than twenty feet away from our original position; we will _not_ give chase.'

He did not allow them time to protest, though he sensed protests were mounting from all sides.

'Captain Kenpachi and vice-captain Abarai will hold the westward end of the line. Kurosaki and Jagguerjaques will take the eastward end. I'll be in the center. There will be no more than twenty feet between us at any given time.'

'Kuchiki…' Kenpachi muttered. 'That's not how I…'

'We are not looking to kill any of them,' Byakuya snapped, looking over his shoulder and suddenly cutting the other captain off. 'Is that understood?' he asked; Kenpachi's growl could have been a form of grudging agreement or staunch refuse – Byakuya chose to believe it was the former. 'Is that understood?' he repeated, shifting his glance to Ichigo.

The human boy rebelliously sustained the frozen stare for a few seconds, all the while looking as if he'd simply step aside from Senbonsakura's scabbard. He did not; instead, he took a deep breath, and nodded resentfully.

Byakuya nodded in his turn, then, as if Aizen and his creation had not existed, fully turned around towards Rukia, who had stepped up behind him. She tried to look determined, he thought, not for fear of whatever was to come, but for fear that he would dismiss her and send her to safety. He'd intended just that, too, yet, she clutched the hilt of her zanpakutoh so tightly that her fingers were as white as the silk that covered the sword's guard.

He narrowed his eyes; Rukia narrowed hers in turn, and did not back down as he took a step closer.

'Shadow step on my mark,' he said, speaking to her, but addressing them all. He thought her eyes had widened with surprise and gratitude. 'Stay close,' Byakuya added, gently raising his arm.

He vanished before his fingers had touched Rukia's shoulder.

'Senkei, Senbonsakura Kageyoshi,' he whispered, even before his shadow step had stopped – the four rows of blades stretched outwards as he turned, hiding the portal from view; he called one to his fingers, and, with a swift gesture of his arm, sent others out in a thin, cutting line. He'd been fast enough, he noted, for Halibel and Gin had retreated in somewhat of a disorderly haste, while Aizen himself had taken a small step back.

The attack gave the others time to acquire their guard stances, and line spread out as he'd intended, leaving no wide gaps that would allow passage to anything more than the deadly wall of swords. He slowly looked to his left, then to his right, and stifled a small, ironic grin under the harshest grimace he could muster; predictably, Grimmjow Jagguerjaques had taken it upon himself to crouch just two feet out of line and ahead of everybody else.

_Of all the people to be standing with, at the end of the world, _Byakuya thought, feeling nothing that resembled regret or doubt.

He looked to Aizen and allowed himself to smirk. The traitor looked far less than impressed – in fact, as usual, he seemed amused, as if he'd been watching children at play. At some point, the expression on Aizen's features might have jarred, and make Byakuya think of how far he might have thought he'd fallen. Aside for Abarai and Rukia, these were the last companions he would have picked of his own free will – there was not a shred of discipline between them; they were crude, boastful, unsure of their powers, and perhaps downright insane, far from anything he'd ever attempted to instill in his division, and yet…

And yet now, Byakuya thought, whipping his blade to the side, he felt just a little bit _proud, _not only of himself, but of his ill assorted companions. After, if there would be an after, he would have to give the subject some serious hours of punitive meditation.

'Pitiful,' Tousen said, taking a step forward, and preparing to unsheathe his sword.

'Do _not _step out of line,' Byakuya calmly repeated, though he felt himself ready to jump forth.

He angled his blade to meet Suzumushi's edge, all but feeling grateful for the fact that Tousen's attack had justified him inching forward, but satisfaction was denied.

Tousen's figure was swallowed by a white burst of energy just before the swords could meet; at the same moment, Aizen spun on himself with what looked like the first hint of genuine concern.

'Finally!' Kurosaki exploded, throwing his hands in the air. 'What the hell took you guys so long?'

Byakuya looked sharply to the side, barely noticing that Tousen had been flung upwards by some inhuman force; with no seeming regard for the enemies he'd been about to face, Aizen turned around fully.

'Sorry,' Hirako Shinji said, not even bothering to bring his guard up, and keeping his Zanpakutoh casually flung over his shoulder. 'Yamamoto was in da way.'

The Vaizard's words made Byakuya frown deeply and menacingly, but while Ichigo shifted uncomfortably, Shinji's toothy smile simply grew wider, as if it had been feeding on the Shinigami's outrage.

'Now he ain't in the way no more,' he concluded, dryly.

Sparks flew as Aizen hastily brought Kyoka Suigetsu up for a parry, while the eerie, sorrowful song of a myriad of crickets suddenly grew to surround them all.

* * *

Uryu placed his sleeve over his features, trying to breathe through it and keep the burning ashes that he stirred at each step from invading his lungs. He felt numb, and he'd stopped looking up; the sky was too far.

_Not that it had ever been close,_ he thought eerily. _Or benevolent._

He'd stopped looking up, but it was not because he willed himself to. It was simply that the battles in the heavens no longer concerned him – he'd even idly wondered if it had all been worth fighting in the first place. It was not as if any arrangement that Soul Society came to, within its _heavenly_ confines could have placed the sky closer to the humans beneath it. On the contrary, the difference between some aloof entity, that allowed its unspeakably powerful minions to run rampant across a world they'd been meant to protect, and Aizen himself seemed so blurred now, that the human price had already been paid, that Uryu had to struggle with himself to find the distinction.

Odd notions stirred in his mind as the ashes of his world stirred beneath his feet.

Maybe the difference was that one of them had meant to cause this destruction, while the others had merely been incompetent at preventing it, but…

Uryu stole a glance towards Nemu, suddenly wondering if she could read his thoughts, and feeling stunned by how little shame he felt about having them. She took no true notice, and kept staring blankly ahead, with deeply stored sets of coordinates drifting behind her dull glance.

On hind thought, Uryu assumed that he should have found it amazing that the Nemu had been instructed on how to find the Urahara shop; if the location had been hidden somewhere within her programming, it must have meant that the Shinigami had known it all along – which, of course, drove the further question of why they had never bothered to chase down the exile, and why Mayuri Kurosutchi had allowed his creation to harbor knowledge that could, in the long run, be dangerous to himself. And then, there was the possibility that Nemu had found it on her own – Uryu much preferred that one, and found no reason to dismiss it. She had, after all, found _him_ when he'd needed her to, so…The irrelevance of it all made him sigh.

Whether Nemu had learned of the actual location of the Urahara Shop on her own, or it had been given to her was far less important than the simple truth that the Shop, like everything else within a mile radius had been razed to the ground, perhaps taking its dwellers with it. There was little actual chance of any help or guidance.

'Hm,' Szayel Aporro said, for the third time.

The sound was almost completely disguised by the ceaseless, dull beeping which accompanied the quick movement of the Arrancar's fingers across the screen of a portable tablet ever since they had separated from the wider group.

Much like Uryu himself, Szayel Aporro did not seem convinced that Urahara was still alive, or would be able to lend any assistance, even if he was. To his credit, and for however frightening the notion, the Octava seemed absolutely oblivious to the destruction that surrounded him as well. If anything, after the initial and expected mutterings over the incompetence of all who were not himself, Szayel had engaged in solving the next riddle with enthusiasm that was nothing short but creepy. The rational size of Uryu's mind sought to find some sort of upside in the Arranacar's demeanor – such as the fact that Szayel Aporro could clearly think straight under pressure, and had not given a single sign of wanting to abandon a cause that was clearly already lost. Still, Uryu could not help but feel that Szayel Aporro was not only unphased, but inwardly pleased, in his particular twisted and disturbing way; his detachment did not stem from superior focus. It was simply that he did not _care_ enough about the evidence of thousands of lives that had been wasted to even spare them a thought.

Why would he have? Ishida bitterly. It was not his world, and whatever feeble ties he'd had to it when he'd been alive, if he'd ever had any, were long gone. Why would Szayel Aporro, of all people, care, when those who _should have_ didn't?

It was only now that Uryu looked towards the sky, welcoming the onset of fury, which finally chased the numbness away. He clenched his fingers tightly around the silvery tubes on his belt, not minding the unpleasant tingle of Szayel Aporro's reiatsu, which still coursed through the metal.

The taint, he thought, numbly. The indiscriminate triumph of survival instinct over love, compassion and reason, the indiscriminate triumph of hatred over everything else. And Stark…

He did not continue the thought.

Nemu stopped, standing before a scorched plot of land that looked no different from any of the rest; she blinked, clearly refreshing her calculations, then, keeping to the same pace, made her way through the barely discernible outline of the shop's foundations. It all looked, Uryu thought, like something he'd seen as a child – an antique town, the stony foundations of which had been perfectly preserved. People flocked to the place, remarking how well the village had kept, and wandering amid the streets which ran between the contours of walls, and walls drawing the confines of where life had once been. He vaguely remembered that the others had seemed to find it exciting, and that all had merrily engaged in trying to guess which room had served what purpose – he also remembered that he had found it unnerving, and even at points heart rending, for he'd felt as if he had been trampling not through the remains of other people's homes, but over the remnants of other people's souls.

He closed his eyes as he stepped inside this ruin, trying not to feel that he'd been walking amid the traces of walls, but seeing Urahara's shop in his mind and unconsciously following the same path towards the back room that he might have had the walls still been standing, stepping on soot, but feeling hardwood under his feet…

'There's nothing here, vice-captain Kurosutchi,' Uryu said.

He had not expected her to notice the reversal to formal address, and he hadn't noticed it himself until the words had been uttered – yet Nemu had turned, and looked over her shoulder.

'That is incorrect,' Szayel Aporro had answered, not leaving the Quincy time to wonder if he'd actually read some form of regret in Nemu's eyes.

Szayel Aporro drifted forward, and Uryu distractedly noticed that the Arrancar had maintained himself a foot above ground all the way; the hem of his uniform was as perfectly white as always, and showed no trace of the fact that they had crossed the better part of a mile over nothing but ashes and rubble.

_Untouched by others, regardless of their dramas,_ Uryu thought.

The tablet in Szayel Aporro's hand began beeping – at first dully, but then in increasingly alarmed tones, which gathered in a steady crescendo and settled to a loud, maddening continuous sound. Without bothering to explain what he had been scanning for, Szayel Aporro stopped abruptly, the precision of his positioning seeming awkward, given the fact that the square foot of rubble beneath his feet seemed in no way different to anything that surrounded them. He exchanged a glance with Nemu, giving Uryu the odd and unpleasant impression that he was about to issue an order; Nemu thought the same, and took a step towards Szayel as if she could have read the Arrancar's mind.

It was not the case. Szayel kicked at the ground, just once, jumping up briskly as soon as his heels had made contact with the floor. In a powerful reminder of how much strength his tiny frame actually carried, the fortified trapdoor gave as if it made of twigs – it took a long time before they heard the muffled sound of the falling pieces. Whatever lay underneath, Uryu thought, must have been terribly deep.

The Arrancar peered down, with pointed lack of interest – then, before Uryu could even perceive the other reiatsu, Szayel turned and parried against what seemed like thin air. Deep red light scattered in all directions, causing the Quincy to instinctively materialise his bow. Szayel jumped and threw his tablet in the air as he back flipped; the slender figure of his attacker had not even properly appeared when he landed, and swiftly jammed his right elbow into its stomach, causing his opponent to recoil ever so slightly. He vanished, catching his tablet in mid air, and whipping Fornicares out of its scabbard, then danced out of the way of another burst of crimson light before landing on one knee, and straightening himself under the other attacker's defenses.

The speed of the motion caused a white and green striped hat to drift away in the wind, still, though electricity crackled along Fornicares' blade, under the other man's chin, the final inch of the advance was not made. The other blade's tip was pressed to the Arrancar's chest, closely enough to rip through the cloth of his uniform, but not close enough to scratch the skin. Dark skinned fingers lodged into the back of Szayel's head. He did not flinch.

'Urahara Kisuke, I presume,' Szayel Aporro said, coldly.

* * *

Up next - Aizen oughta start worrying a little. But - only a little :)


	75. Face Off

Good day, and Happy New Year :D I realise that I am one day late but, hey - it is still the 10th of Jan in Melbourne...I hope...

I'd better hurry, then :D

Thank you all who read and commented over the break. Thank Maidros and IVIaedhros for sticking with me, through tick and thin.

* * *

Welcome all to 2010, and

Chapter 75 - Where Science is sexy. Because it is.

* * *

Urahara's hand did not tremble, and he held Benihime's blade to Szayel Aporro's chest; the Arrancar did not budge either.

'And you are…?' Urahara detachedly inquired, his voice deeply contrasting with the tension in his eyes.

'Neither impressed by your welcome nor by the quality of your defenses,' Szayel responded, arching an eyebrow. 'Lower, if you please,' he purred towards Yoruichi, who was still gripping the back of his neck with vice-like strength. 'I am, in fact, experiencing a small muscle cramp in my right shoulder.'

'Are you unharmed, Ishida?' she asked, without looking over her shoulder.

'Yes,' the boy bitingly responded, understanding that she had probably thought himself and Nemu were being held hostage. 'He's with us, Yoruichi-san,' he added, dryly. 'You can let go of him.'

Urahara frowned, and incredulously looked down.

'With _us_,' he repeated, shifting his glance towards Ishida, for confirmation.

'It is a loose definition,' Szayel Aporro beamed, 'but it seems to be a functional one, for the moment.'

'Urahara-san,' Nemu said, in her turn, drawing the former Shinigami's attention to herself.

He studied her for a moment, but still did not budge.

'I was directed to find you,' Nemu followed. 'You are wasting time.'

After a further moment of consideration, which was not rendered any shorter by Szayel's wide and obliging grin, Urahara took one step backwards, nodding for Yoruichi to do the same. She did – in response, Szayel calmly sheathed Fornicares, and looked from one to the other with eyes wide in expectation, half studying them as he knew he was being studied.

'What happened here?' Ishida asked, as eager to vent off some of his fury as he was to break the stand-off.

Urahara's glance turned to him, and even though the brim of his hat still concealed his eyes, the tense line of his lips spoke well enough.

'Aizen defeated them,' he said, briskly.

'I was under the impression that you and the 12th Division had engineered some sort of device that was supposed to keep Karakura Town in Rukongai,' Ishida continued. 'How was this possible?' he inquired, opening his arms to indicate the wasteland that stretched all around them.

'We did, and the illusion was fully functional until a few minutes ago. Still, we could not do everything on our own,' he said, in telling irritation. 'Aizen...,' Urahara began to repeat, swallowing dry.

Ishida pressed his fingers to his brow.

'The Gotei lost, you mean,' he said, dryly.

Urahara shifted his glance to the side, considering whether or not he should contradict the Quincy's re-statement of his words. 'Yes, Ishida-kun,' he responded, slowly and regretfully. 'If that is how you want to phrase it, the Gotei lost.'

The Quincy shook his head, dismissing all the thoughts that came to mind and would have made little difference if spoken out loud; he unwillingly glanced towards Szayel Aporro, who was perfectly indifferent to the conversation, and had started meddling with his tablet once more.

_Maybe he's right to ignore us_, Ishida thought, trying to control his breath and his anger. _I'm being childish, and none of this matters._

Whether Aizen had indeed won by overwhelming force or through the weakness and pitiful organisation of the Shinigami mattered little; of course, Ishida could have said that he had half expected that the Gotei would not be up to the challenge. Perhaps he even had. He could have also have said that the defeat was well deserved, that the Shinigami had had it coming for centuries - in short, he could have spoken all of the things his father had always said, and felt vindicated. Blame would be assigned to those with whom it squarely lied...and it would make no difference.

No more than a written letter of apology over the death of his grandfather would have made the Shinigami's regrets genuine or lessened his pain, Ishida reminded himself.

'Can the portal still be closed?' he asked, forcing himself to think of what could still be done, and not wondering why defeating Aizen still mattered.

'I doubt that,' Yoruichi answered, shaking her head. 'But I don't know.'

'None of us _know,_' Urahara completed; his words drew a sharp, unpleasant giggle from Szayel Aporro.

'How thoroughly unexpected!' the Octava said. 'You _all_ make my head spin.'

Though all glances reproachfully turned to him, he did not even look up from his tablet.

'Please, do go on,' he said. 'I'll let you know when next you say anything of interest.'

'This has never happened before, in recorded history,' Urahara added, forcing his attention away from the Arrancar. Though he'd tried to sound indifferent, Ishida had thought he'd heard an odd apologetic ring in his voice. 'The Spirit King's dimension has only ever opened from the other side, and we have no knowledge of how the passages work.'

'Why are they not closing it from the other side?' the Quincy asked.

'I...' Urahara began.

'He doesn't know,' Szayel sweetly interrupted. 'Just hurrying the process,' he innocently beamed. 'Listen, Urahara-san,' he added, finally lowering his tablet, 'would it not be easier if you compiled the very short list of what you _do_ know, and we used that as our desperately weak starting point?'

'And you are...?' Urahara once more prompted, this time genuinely growing irritated.

'...feeling less and less impressed by the minute,' Szayel responded, with a flirty smile; his attention spent, he returned to blissfully tapping on his tablet.

Ishida sighed.

'I am unsure that the Ouken can be undone,' the blonde Shinigami said, after a deep calming breath. 'I should hope that if it could, the King's Guard would find a way of closing the portal, yet, with Karakura Town here and under threat, there is no genuine guarantee that Aizen will be unable to generate another Ouken. Until he is defeated...'

A powerful wave of solid, white energy rippled above, missing its aim and striking somewhere in the distance; Urahara cursed under his breath.

_Yes_, Ishida distractedly thought, finding that his despair was bringing him dangerously close to hysterical amusement, _until Aizen is defeated, no one will be safe - not Karakura Town, and not the King's dimension...What else didn't we know?_ he wondered.

'So, the solution remains fighting him here?' he asked, hoping that Urahara had sensed the disapproval in his voice.

'I can think of nothing else, Ishida-kun,' Urahara said.

'Who is with you?' Yoruichi asked. 'I can sense Byakuya and Ichigo...'

'Captains Unohana and Kenpachi are also in good battle condition,' Nemu responded. 'Captain Unohana has gone out to seek those who have survived their encounters, in the company of two more Arrancar allies and with Inoue Orihime. We may hope our numbers will grow slightly. Who is with you?' she inquired back, letting them know that the odd energies that had suddenly appeared above had not gone unnoticed.

Urahara and Yoruichi hesitated and exchanged a quick glance, making Ishida frown.

'A good company,' Urahara answered, at length and with deliberate lack of precision. 'Our most immediate problem is that none may fight at capacity while the town is here...'

'That did not seem to stop them before,' Ishida snarled.

'There was precious little choice,' Yoruichi said, dryly. 'This,' she stated, crossing her arms over her chest, but tilting her head to the side to indicate the surroundings, 'is the result of one single attack. From what we could tell, Yamamoto Genryusai and Ukitake Jushiro went to great lengths to keep the damage to a minimum, but...'

'This was the minimum damage,' the Quincy said, once more beginning to seethe with rage. 'Yes, I can _definitely _understand that. What I do not understand is why Aizen needs to be fought _here. _Why does the thought of letting Aizen cross into the King's dimension, and actually facing him there...'

'Inconceivable,' Urahara said, the decisive tone in his regularly obliging voice marking the end of that particular train of thought.

Ishida looked up at the blonde man's unpleasantly relaxed features, finding no words. There would be no argument, the archer realised. The possibility would not even be discussed.

_Just another Shinigami, in the end,_ he eerily thought; in a corner of his mind, Urahara Kisuke died, leaving a stranger in his wake.

'We need to keep the damage to the humans to as little as possible,' the stranger said, making himself sound as if he had actually cared. 'The problem is that we need to find a new power source for the illusion generator...'

'Can we not contact the 12th Division?' Ishida asked.

'Negative,' Nemu responded. 'All senkei gates are shut. Protocol.' she added, in the way of an explanation.

'So is Sereitei walling itself in now?' Ishida exploded.

'The Sereitei has always been walled in, Ishida,' Yoruichi said, her voice carrying strange warmth and sorrow. The archer swallowed dry. 'It's only you who is learning about it now.'

He looked at her, finding that the mischievous sparkle in her amber eyes was gone, and though her posture seemed no less relaxed and confident than usual, he sensed her tiredness and concern as if a veil had suddenly been lifted.

_She would know,_ he realised. _If anyone would know, it would be her._

'I'm sorry,' he eerily heard himself say.

Yoruichi Shounin simply nodded.

'How many inhabitants does this charming hamlet have?' Szayel Aporro asked, sounding as if he had spent the past few minutes on a different planet. Still, the tone of his voice was something that both Ishida and Nemu immediately recognised - condescending and amused.

_He has an idea_, Ishida thought, frowning at the fact that his heart had actually skipped a beat with joy. _Yet again, he has an idea._

'Roughly five hundred thousand,' Urahara answered. 'The number rises to about two million during the working week...'

'Aha,' Szayel said, meaningfully looking at the blonde Shinigami.

'Am I supposed to read anything into your monosyllabic vocalisations, Arrancar?' Urahara sweetly inquired.

'Yes, but that would require a creative an inquisitive mind,' Szayel answered, in an equally sweet tone. 'The type of mind that would lead you to realise that a city of two million must have a very impressive electricity infrastructure, all on your own.'

Urahara's brow furrowed.

'An electricity infrastructure,' Szayel continued, clenching the tablet behind his back, 'that is would not only have an exceptional output, but would also be diffuse and linked in a beautifully redundant manner. In other words, something that not only has sufficient capacity, but would also be very hard to destroy in a single blow. One would dare hope,' he followed, 'that the disadvantages of a single point of failure design would have revealed themselves to you by now, Urahara Kisuke...'

'There were four,' Urahara snarled.

'Single points of failure? Dear me, I misjudged you,' Szayel interrupted. 'Four, rather than one! And, given the disposition of all of your companions thus far, I am assured that your network concentration points were also neatly labeled with _'Kick this over to win a prize!'_, in brightly flashing, pink neon letters. How ever did Aizen manage to find them?' he gasped.

'Who is this individual?' Urahara asked, swiftly turning towards Ishida; admitting that he was amused at the Shinigami's predicament, Ishida shrugged.

'Someone who blissfully immune to philosophical lamentations,' Szayel Aporro smiled. 'Allow me.'

He flicked his tablet over, and, with a few dull beeps, brought it to hover in thin air at the height of his chest.

'This,' he began, as the pink, three dimensional outline of a spider web like structure rose from the tablet's screen, 'is the structure of the Karakura Town electricity network. I have taken the liberty of plotting it out, as I sense you are not very strong with abstractions. In this rendition, nodes represent generators, while the thickness of connecting lines represents...'

'Line capacity,' Urahara muttered. 'Yes.'

'By its very design,' Szayel followed, not giving the other even the most minor victory, 'the electrical infrastructure is all pervasive. High capacity lines cover the entire area of the city, and extend into the electrical outlets of every home and office - as we all know, power lines have the lovely tendency of radiating electrical fields. Of course, the higher the throughput, the stronger the field - but even the most humble conductor will generate some sort of electrical wave.'

'Were it within my programmed behaviour,' Nemu said dryly, 'I would probably kiss you now.'

'Thank you, Nemu-chan,' Szayel purred. 'I too find that electronics are deeply arousing...'

'Ahem,' Ishida meaningfully coughed. 'Back to the point?'

'Spoiled sport,' Szayel whined, nonetheless giving Ishida a knowing and thoroughly blood curling wink. 'But, alas...In brief, Urahara Kisuke, Karakura Town not only offers you sufficient power to bring your generator online, but also...'

'A way of diffusing the illusion to each household and office building,' Ishida exclaimed.

'Individually,' Szayel Aporro beamed. 'Thus, you will not only cover _everything_, but you will do so in a redundant manner; power centrals are linked together so that when one fails, the circuits are routed to another power central. The statistical probability of all failsafe circuits being destroyed at once is rather small. Or at least,' the Octava stung, 'lower than the 25% chance you were operating on, Shinigami-kun.'

He paused, taking in Urahara's deepening frown with visible pleasure.

'And, finally,' Szayel continued, grinning thinly, 'the advantage of using the power grid is that if a section of the town does happen to suffer a minor, hm, accident, the illusion will falter for that area alone, and not bleed into a catastrophe of epic proportions.'

'You think you are very bright, don't you?' Urahara inquired, in a low growl.

'You have no idea,' Ishida answered.

'The only thing your very ingenious solution is missing is a means of actual implementation,' the blonde Shinigami muttered. 'A small factor, but a _sine qua non_.'

'Oh?' Szayel Aporro asked, his lips forming a perfect circle.

'Yes,' Urahara answered. 'The Tenkai-Kezzu is kido and reiatsu based, while electrical conductors are simply electrical conductors. Your solution, which is,' he reluctantly said, 'perfect in theory, would imply that the two energy sources are compatible.'

'And they are _not_?' the Octava gasped, eyes widened in horror.

'No, they are not,' Urahara said. 'I have never seen...'

He briefly lost his train of thought, as the pink haired Arrancar began to smile.

'...read,' Urahara forced himself to continue, as Szayel's smile grew wider and more toothy by the second, 'or even heard vague rumours of...anyone..._ever_...successfully patching reiatsu through conventional electrical circuits!' he furiously concluded, as Szayel's face became too small for his grin. 'Who _the hell_ are you?' Urahara exploded.

The Arrancar pursed his lips, and emitted a delicate sigh before finally responding.

'Szayel Aporro Granz,' he said, graciously brushing his pink tresses off his forehead. 'Here to shake, rock, adapt, and, more pointedly, _electrify_ your world.'

---------

'Still useless, ha?' Hiyori inquired, looking at Ichigo with an expression that marked a solid border between mockery and disgust.

'Shut up!' the Shinigami substitute yelled, shaking his fist in her direction. 'We just bloody got here!'

'What, you tripped on the way?' she taunted. 'Or just fell asleep? An' who the hell are you?' she asked, her attention abruptly switching to Byakuya.

'Uuuh, look - a green scarf thingy; gotta be a Kuchiki,' Mashiro put in, taking a step forward even as Byakuya drew back in horror. 'And a cute one, too' she giggled, blushing and hiding half her face under her red bandana.

Aizen's relaxed parry threw Shinji backwards, and sent him hurtling through the air at great speed; the Vaizard somersaulted, and quickly regained control over his trajectory, bringing himself to an equally relaxed stop. The wave of reiatsu that Aizen sent out in the wake of the parry broke upon the Vaizard's wiry figure, and spread out, shredding the clouds into swirling mists. Shinji simply shook his sword arm to relax his muscles, then whipped his blade to the side.

He did not seem fazed, Ichigo noticed, but his attack had not even inconvenienced Aizen; perhaps it hadn't even been intended to. It had felt more like Shinji had intended to gauge Aizen's strength, or simply make his presence noted. He certainly had not focused reiatsu to any significant extent.

Ichimaru Gin stepped forth from the mists, his figure rising slowly by Aizen's side. Barragan and Halibel joined him, protectively standing around the Creator, and decisively placing themselves between the Shinigami and the Vaizard, with their weapons drawn.

'There's one face I didn't think I was gonna see again,' Ichimaru said, scratching his head; despite his relaxed attitude, the glance he shot over his shoulder at Aizen denoted something akin to impatience. 'How ya doing, Hirako-san?'

'A lot better than you're gonna be doin' in just a mo',' Shinji answered, carelessly rotating his zanpakutoh, and warming up his muscles. 'Yo, Jagguerjaques!' he shouted, unexpectedly leaning forward and wildly waving at Grimmjow. 'Ya grew your tentacle back, mate, good on ya!'

'Up yours, dude!' Grimmjow shouted back.

'It is odd, Kurosaki Ichigo,' Byakuya softly noted, arching an eyebrow. 'It appears as if all of you know each other.'

'Yeh, no kidding. How'd ya figure that?' the Sexta snarled.

'Care to briefly enlighten me, Kurosaki Ichigo?' Byakuya politely asked, paying the Arrancar no heed.

Though the words had been spoken in a voice not much louder than a whisper, Shinji seemed to have heard them well enough; his glance and his attention quickly moved on to Byakuya. He studied him for a few seconds longer than he had the first time around.

'Yeah, Ichigo,' Shinji lazily drawled. 'Care to enlighten the nice _Shinigami_?'

Ichigo frowned, and raised Zangetsu's blade, signaling that he was in no mood for conversation.

'I know'em,' he simply said, his frown trying to warn Byakuya off further questions. 'They're good guys. 'Nuff said.'

Grimmjow threw his head back and laughed.

'Atta boy, Kurosaki,' he said, under his breath. He leaned Pantera's blade across his bent knee, grinning madly and provocatively at Byakuya's stern stare, almost daring him to question further, precisely because he sensed his attitude would cause the Shinigami to do the exact opposite.

Tousen flew in between the Shinigami line and the group of his companions, the blade of his sword held out to block a pillar of foaming, white energy - though the attack was close to breaching Tousen's defenses, Byakuya's frown unwillingly deepened, just as Shinji's smile grew wider.

The nature of the reiatsu had been all wrong, both men knew; something, Byakuya thought, his glance dropping to meet that of the white haired man who'd cast against Tousen, was clearly amiss. The man's square jaw clenched, for just an instant, giving the captain of the 6th the distinct impression that the burning hatred that filled his steel grey eyes was not directed at Tousen alone - Byakuya did not have time to confirm the feeling or dwell on it further. Blue, cold light grew in between the man's fingers, and he shot it out, darting on its trail with almost equal speed, allowing Byakuya no more than a fleeting glimpse at his figure, and though he'd had less than a heartbeat to acknowledge the vision, Byakuya had nonetheless recognised the tattoo that decorated the center of the man's chest.

That, he had seen before.

He shot an uncharacteristically uncertain glance to the side at Renji, only to discover that his lieutenant had been looking to him with the same bewildered expression.

'Hisagi...' Renji mouthed, softly shaking his head.

It was all he had time to say.

'I'm startin' ta get bored,' Ichimaru whined, his voice unpleasantly relaxed, despite the fact that above, the blue light had caught up with Tousen, enveloping him fully. 'Hirako-san,' he said, not looking towards Shinji, but towards Aizen, 'D'ya really gotta do this now_? _We got bigger fish to fry 'ere. Ya know, the kind o'fish we ain't fried _before...'_

'Not on your life, kiddo,' Shinji drawled. 'Not on your life.'

Aizen nodded briefly, then turned away.

'Barragan,' he said.

As if his voice had carried an unspoken signal, Grimmjow stood and straightened; in turn, Byakuya sensed his fingers unconsciously clench Senbonsakura's hilt.

'The dead are standing in my way,' Aizen concluded.

'Oh, you miserable bastard,' Shinji breathed, his reiatsu finally flaring out along with a century of repressed fury; he took no more notice of the powerful pulse of reiatsu that left Barragan's extended hand, than he took of the hundreds of shadows that had begun gathering behind him and his companions.

Shinji sidestepped Halibel's lightning fast counter, passing but a few inches of Tiburron's extended blade and returning to his course towards Aizen within an eye blink, zanpakutoh extended to the side and fingers stretched over the left side of his face - as the other Vaizard turned to face the remnants of the Hollow army that had gathered around them, and Barragan himself stepped out of Aizen's shadow, Ichigo felt his heart shrinking with a completely new and utterly unexpected chill.

He took in Byakuya's blank features and Renji's shocked stare, knowing all too well that neither was caused by the sight of the many Numeros that had assembled around them - for a mere moment, he allowed himself to think he wished Ishida had been there, with his miraculous bow, and let himself wonder whether on this one occasion, the Captain of the 6th would find it in himself to frown upon the Quincy's mass erasure of Hollow.

Then, instinctively, he'd known that Byakuya would, and naturally wondered upon what else Byakuya would frown.

_It's a fucking life changing decision, _he heard Grimmjow say, in a fleeting memory.

The natural and childish optimism that always filled Ichigo's heart before battle rebelled and fiercely turned from ally to enemy; the notion that life and memory would somehow continue beyond this encounter, beyond the wall of Hollow flesh and Menos shrouds, beyond Aizen himself, abruptly made him wish that Shinji's fingers had not had the power of summoning darkness and anger. He wished that Shinji would not put on his mask.

As if hearing Ichigo's thoughts, Shinji did not, or at least, not at that precise instant; Hiyori did instead, launching herself at a Menos Grande with the speed and energy of a missile. Rose followed, and three Numeros fell to the coils of his extended, heavy whip even before the sharp mask had fully covered his features. The Menos shroud was ripped along all of its monstrous height, revealing the yellowing, calcified bones that it covered; Hiyori laughed in a voice that was not hers, and with a sound that more resembled a rolling gurgle - yet nothing, not the sound of the explosions, not the dying screams of the Hollow, not even the wild howl of energy that marked the formation of Shinji's mask could drown out the brief sound of Byakuya's gasp.

Wishing he had heard wrongly, Ichigo looked to the side through the corner of his eyes, hoping to see Byakuya's stone cast, implacable profile, because he'd come to recognise that the descent of Kuchiki's own mask meant that the Shinigami's heart and mind were furiously working underneath. He saw nothing of the sort.

As Hirako Shinji's sword, driven by revenge and strengthened by the rage of his inner Hollow, earnestly crossed Kyoka Suigetsu, Kuchiki Byakuya's features depicted a mixture of emotions that Ichigo had never seen before. Not fury, but incomprehension, fear of the unknown and odd, irrepressible sorrow, all feelings that Byakuya never displayed and was ill equipped to deal with, danced in the depth of his eyes.

_It begins,_ Ichigo thought, with far more clarity than he liked.

'Yo!'

Grimmjow's reiatsu burst out in completely unknown defensive flavour, violently grabbing Ichigo's attention. He snappily turned, only marginally aware of the fact that the Vaizard had all darted forth, disappearing amid the Numeros, and it was his turn to gasp, his lower jaw hanging slack.

The Sexta had raised his arm to parry a fierce kick that had been doubtlessly intended for his head. The attacking Arrancar's shin still pushed against Grimmjow's forearm, as red, scalding energy burst intermittently from the point of contact.

'...the hell?' Ichigo managed to breathe, equally shocked by the fact that the other Arrancar had gotten so close without being noticed as he was by the fact that Grimmjow was doing nothing to repel her.

'Bitch!' the Arrancar spat, her odd eyes gleaming furiously - the contact broke, and she vanished, this time managing to squarely plant her foot in Grimmjow's groin; the Sexta yelped but still failed to retaliate in a way that Ichigo would find even remotely recognisable.

'Dude,' the Sexta painstakingly uttered.

'Motherfucker!' she cried, kicking him again, this time in the shoulder, and making him slide a few feet to the side. 'Gonna take your fucking balls off!'

'Grimmjow?' Ichigo questioningly managed, his eyes growing to the size of dinner plates; the glance that the Sexta threw him over the female Arrancar's head told him not to intervene, but the warning came entirely too late. She spun on herself, propping her fists on her hips and leaning forward, her gaze more enraged than anything Ichigo had seen before.

'This what ya ran after an' blew me off for? Ha?' she threw over her shoulder; still bent over, his forearm protectively placed across his crotch, Grimmjow managed a mere grunt.

'Apache...' he said, the tone of his voice springing Ichigo to sudden clarity. His shock turning to insane amusement powerful enough to temporarily erase everything else, the Shinigami substitute snorted.

'This your..._girlfriend_?' Ichigo said, feeling that the Universe had turned tables on Grimmjow with a vengeance.

'Yeh,' Apache yelled, then spun around to kick Grimmjow once more - the Sexta caught her ankle in mid strike, but simply contented himself on deflecting the blow to the side. 'Why, ya his boyfriend? Like boys all of a freaking sudden, eh? Dickhead?'

'Like _ya_ got anything female on ya 'xcept for your...'The Sexta began, the wide, wolfish grin finally returning to his features. He caught Apache's fist in his, straightening and turning towards her in a single fluid motion, which told Ichigo that he'd planned his words to provoke her and known exactly how she would react. His fingers closed about hers like a vice, allowing no more than panicked, stifled red gushes to escape from the teal waves of his own reiatsu. 'Good to see ya too, babe,' he whispered, pulling her close - to Ichigo's surprise, the words had sounded earnest, and, for a fleeting second, the fury in Apache's reiatsu faltered, and she bit her lower lip to stop it from trembling.

'You're a dickhead, Grimm,' she said, swallowing dry.

'Yeh, babe, I know,' he answered.

His hand slid off hers, and though Apache had propped her foot in his chest, and furiously kicked herself away, the parting motion of their fingers seemed as slow and gentle as a caress.

Grimmjow abruptly crossed both arms and Pantera's scabbard over his head as she disappeared to Sonido; the movement was barely fast enough. Apache's iron, serrated circle whizzed above him, and she jumped out of its dark, rippling center, hitting his crossed forearms with both feet. Ichigo had expected neither the violence nor the strength of the attack, and, for a moment, it looked as if Grimmjow hadn't either. The blow sent the Sexta flying towards the ground in a burning flurry of teal reiatsu; in the very same heartbeat, a solid, cutting front of shimmering water, carrying wild and unknown energy split the air, in the exact place where Grimmjow had stood, then splattered into biting mists against Senbonsakura's barrier.

Ichigo looked up in incomprehension, briefly meeting Halibel's green, frozen glance; her chest, and more poignantly, the tattoo which decorated it drew his eyes like a magnet. The Tercera only sustained his gaze for a split second, and with pointed disinterest, before glancing downwards, on Grimmjow's trail.

'Wanna go clean up your house of kitty fur, Hali?' Ichimaru inquired, approaching her from behind; she looked over her shoulder, in an odd moment of hesitation.

'Yes,' she dryly responded.

'Be my guest,' Ichimaru shrugged. 'We're gonna be just _fine_ 'ere,' he added, pointedly looking at Byakuya.

She nodded and vanished, the sudden disappearance of her reiatsu imprint suddenly making Ichigo realise how _large_ it was; despite all the other unleashed energies, Halibel's absence felt as if a sudden void had ripped open in the tense balance of the sky.

Without thinking, Ichigo tensed and readied himself to pursue - there was no way, he thought, no way that Grimmjow could handle that woman all on his own. He started down but did not make it more than six feet out. Swift cold energy, that he immediately recognised as Senbonsakura's cut across his path, passing but an inch in front of his face.

He furiously looked over his shoulder, and opened his mouth to protest, understanding that if he'd been just a fraction faster or if he'd started to shadow step, the ethereal blade would have lodged in his shoulder or his neck.

Though Byakuya's glance had not even turned to him, the frozen mask that had returned to the Shinigami's features was forbidding enough.

'Stay in position, Kurosaki Ichigo,' Byakuya said. 'I've had nearly enough of _things_ stepping out of line.'

Ichigo swallowed his protest, feeling as if he'd swallowed his sword.

* * *

Up Next - What is the King's Guard up to anyway?? (not that they're going to do something, it's just that all of us are asking that question...)


	76. Note

Not a chapter.

Good evening, all, I am putting up this notice so at least all of you do not think we have abandoned our lovely cast of heroes, anti-heroes and Grimmjow.

And thank you all for your attention and kind words over the past year…Whew, has it really been that long?

I apologize for the particularly long hiatus, but can assure you that the year has not been spent sitting idle; at about this time in 2010 I was sitting on my couch, hating Bleach, humanity and life in general, not to mention totally unable to write when IVIaedhros hit me across the head with (yet another) particularly brilliant idea…what if the battle of Karakura didn't go _quite_ according to plan? The result of this is a new monster, Occupation. While not taking place in exactly the same universe, Occupation is Understanding's spiritual successor. Expect to see the core characters return in addition to a few new faces that might be surprising along with all the usual macabre violence, sordid sex and political philosophizing.

And I may just have succumbed to the voices in my head…The new story is entirely co-written with IVIaedhros, who had hoped to keep it a little bit shorter and failed miserably, except for the prologue. No such luck, I am afraid, as one thing built on another, and well…Here we are.

The first chapter of Occupation will be uploaded at some time tonight – again, thank you all for your kind commentary and attention, and hope you will check out and hopefully enjoy our new venture.

Cheers and thanks,

Abstract.


End file.
